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capslocked · 6 months

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KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight.

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

#hyewon smut #izone smut #izone hyewon smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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stormberry-12 · 1 year

Note

the pogues/ESPECIALLY JJ would protect innocent!reader SO MUCH. like she could be the youngest or something and they would go back for her (for ex. when they had to leave jb in s3). anyways jj would so definitely say something like, “you’re like their little sister, but you’re MY girl.” yk

my woman ~ jj maybank x reader

Ahh yes, I totally agree, and I LOVE the innocent!reader and JJ trope>>>

summary: in the ask! not from season 3 but a close concept. :)

pairing: jj x innocent!fem!reader

warnings: slight language, reader in danger, mega fluff.

notes: lowercase intended, this was made late at night and not rlly edited srry if its bad lmao, (jj requests open still)

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

you shifted around and felt the sun on your face as your eyes fluttered open. you were in the twinkie bumping along a winding road, clinging onto jj, who was sitting in his seat, like a koala. or as jay called it, "the front pack", it was like a piggyback but on his front because he always wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay.

you shifted your legs around his torso and lifted your head from the crook of his neck.

"hiya, cupcake," he whispered softly, taking one of his arms that was wrapped around you and moving it so he could brush strands of hair from out of your eyes. "good nap?"

you nodded, wiping the sleep from your eyes, and he smiled. you suddenly recalled how you had gotten here and relief washed over you.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

you were running through alleyways on the cut, you felt betrayed. where had the pogues gone? they were there with you five seconds ago and now you were running away from those bloody square groupers alone.

over by the pogues, jj was having a mental breakdown, "where did she go man?"

"damn it!" john b exclaimed."pope, i thought she was behind you when we cut down this way!

"we have to go back for her-" jj houghed.

"i don't know jay..."

"no... no. we have to." he held his hat in one hand and ran the other through his hair in distress.

"he's right, we have to." pope agreed.

"come on man, we finally lost those guys and now you want to follow em?" john b sighed.

"jb you of all people should understand, she's like a little sister to you man! she's still only 16 and this kind of stuff scares the shit out of her, i can't do that to her guys-"

"john b we're going after her," kie pleaded.

"god! we're wasting time, i'm gonna go after her, even if i have to do it by myself!" jj ran off in your last seen direction. john b gave in and followed along with the rest of the pogues, they all knew jj was right, and their group wouldn't survive without you.

as you continued to run, blood pumping through your ears, you looked for the best spot to hide behind, trying to throw them off. you slid behind a large dumpster and listened as the sets of footsteps of the two men ran past you.

you waited a moment, calming your breathing before you moved from behind the bin. you jumped as the footsteps came back in your direction, but instead of those square groupers, it was jj and the pogues.

"y/n!" j sighed in relief scooping you up into his arms. "I'm so sorry, that will never happen again-"

you just stood there too exhausted to complain, your face buried in his chest. john b brought the twinkie around the corner and you all piled in, driving off into the night.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

"you came back for me," you smiled at your boyfriend wrapping your arms around his neck, still facing him on his lap.

"of course," jj said. "you know you're like their little sister, we honestly would fall apart without you... and your my girl."

"your girl?" you giggled.

"my girl, my woman, my soulmate." he repeated smoothly pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes. "you sure you're okay?"

"yeah," you said, leaning into his touch, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. "perfect,"

~<>~<>~<>~<>~

#jj maybank blurb #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #obx fanfiction #outer banks #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope hayward #sarah cameron #innocent reader #obx

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yameoto · 2 months

Text

HELL IS A (FUCKING) ROOMMATE. JORDAN LI.

synopsis ; your roommate has the libido of a goddamn animal and it's driving you insane. not to mention the fact they have an annoying habit of jerking off in your dorm. to you.

they want you? fine—they can have you. only on your terms, though.

✗ warnings ; dom!reader, sub!jordan. fem!reader, perv!roomate!jordan, dubcon, voyeurism, excessive masturbation (soz). wc ; 4.2k

YOU can do this. you can do this.

you grunt as you fumble for the key. cursing as, with an extreme lack of coordination—you begin to forcibly ram the bloody thing into the lock with the grace and precision of a sledgehammer. what you lack in motor control you make up for with inner beauty—or something.

the do not disturb sign rattles mockingly off the handle, meaning your roommate is definitely inside and definitely not helping out. you grit your teeth, entire body off kilter as you're preoccupied with balancing the boxes cramful of belongings in your arms; big and bulky and absolutely not helping your aim. you curse, loudly as they almost almost tumble out of your grasp the moment the key miraculously jams into place, jerking wildly to catch them. (note: super strength does not come with super-hand-eye-coordination.)

“fucking– stupid- key– fucking better– woah!”

without warning, the door swings open, inwards. a montage of your entire life flits before your eyes as you hurtle forward, boxes and all. you just about barely manage to catch yourself with an undignified stumble before drawing yourself up; coming face to face with—oh.

two figures. bodies very noticeably.. inside. each other. naked. on, what you realise after a bout of disbelief; your fucking bed.

"what the fuck?"

one of them growls, mop of black hair flopping as their head snaps up, even though you're pretty sure you should be the one slinging expletives around. with a frustrated scowl they pull out of the dude, sending a withering glare to the poor guy they were fucking into the bedspread—to which he.. disappears? glitches out? phases out of existence? because suddenly he’s not there anymore, and you’re stranded alone with a very attractive, very threatening looking college student.

who is also—uh, very, very naked.

“um, hi–”

“why do you have a key to my fucking dorm?”

oh, shit.

they are, frankly, gorgeous – like, one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen. their hair is black, mussed, and you can’t help the way your gaze follows its way down the threshold of an.. extremely muscled, slick torso before snapping upwards to find a mildly paralysing glare that reminds yourself that you are not in a very good position right now.

“i’m uh- your new.. roommate?'' you don't mean for it to come out like a question, but by the way they're staring down at you like you're a cockroach that just flew onto their windshield, you almost aren't so sure.

"i'm a fucking TA— i don't have roommates." their eyes narrow, which is like—alright, way to be real welcoming.

“i’m a.. last minute transfer..?” you offer, wincing as you meet their stare. their eyes are unflinching, yet still lidded in a post-sex haze. you can feel your body involuntarily holding its breath; though from the steel in their gaze or the way their biceps flex when they run a hand through their dishevelled locks, you can’t tell.

fuck, you hate hot people.

“oh, yeah. fuck, i forgot about that.” their shoulders slacken, mouth settling into an unimpressed line; which is only slightly more welcoming than the look of murderous intent of two seconds ago. “jordan. jordan li." they say, last name and all—which is how you know they're a prick. "make yourself at home, i guess.” they don’t sound all too enthused as they skirt away from the door, seemingly satisfied with the fact that you're not a home invader—dorm invader? whatever. you just pray that the sigh of relief you breathe isn’t audible.

“great! nice to meet you, i’m–”

“s’on the sheet." jordan cuts in with supreme disinterest as they move across the room, leaning down to pick their boxers from the floor. you’re struck once again with the realisation that they are still fucking naked, and you pointedly tear your eyes away.

“um, yeah.. hey, uh—what’s your-”

“third year, crime-fighting. don't touch my shit. no pets, obviously. if you have a dog, get rid of it. give it to the animal shelter, don’t care. don’t snoop, don't make a mess, and definitely don’t take off the goddamn do not disturb sign. got it?”

you've barely opened your mouth to reply; probably with something along the lines of what the fuck? or animal shelter? before jordan's already turned away, back muscles flexing as they sink back onto the end of their bed, scrunching their briefs up in one hand and—

“hey, uh,” jordan interjects, turning round with an unreadable expression as they glance down, and like a fucking idiot, you follow; giving you front row seat to the massive, throbbing boner that they’re still sporting—pulsing an angry, flushed red as the tip drools with precum.

“mind if i take care of this? couldn’t exactly finish, if you know what i—”

you slam the door after you, and you swear a snicker follows you down the corridor.

over the next week, it quickly becomes apparent that jordan either a): forgets you live in the same room as them, or b): simply does not care.

for starters, there’s their apparent aversion to doing laundry until their entire closet is out of commission, the coke stash underneath their mattress and also—oh. their need to get their dick wet at least four times a day. (irrespective of whether they have a dick or not).

“what?” jordan scoffs through a mouthful of cereal. “‘m not lettin’ some fuckin’ freshie cockblock me.”

“i’m a transfer, not a fucking freshman.” you scowl, and jordan’s lips curl to form a lazy little ‘o’. it twitches upwards into that infuriating little smirk, like they enjoy seeing you squirm.

“whatever. my libido stops for nobody, not even you. besides,” they set their bowl on the bedside table, wagging their fingers suggestively into a ‘V’ shape and licking the air between. "a bigender supe has needs too."

they’re slouching against their headboard, free arm stretching lazily above their head. your cheeks flush traitorously as their biceps flex—muscles visibly popping against their frame “you can just say 'a girl has needs'. i'm not an idiot, i know what you mean." is what you grumble back, if only to ignore the inane, stupid heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

"but i have needs when i'm a dude, too." jordan grins, propping themselves up by their elbow, eyes gleaming impishly as they curl their hand into a fist and making a fucking wanking motion over their (currently) non-existent dick. which is—yeah. that pretty much sums up your roommate for you.

the thing is about jordan, is despite all their excessive lockerroom talk and relatively abrasive personality; they’re still rank two in all of godolkin. ergo, they’re a surprisingly busy person; being preoccupied with either studying, sparring or partying ninety of the time.

thus, like all horny, single college students, when you don’t have time to squeeze a good fuck in, you’re left with second-best option—yourself. this would otherwise be fine, except jordan’s compound v must have seeped through their bloodstream and into their libido because jesus fucking christ are they horny.

it’s not like they make an effort of hiding it, either. they seem to have zero qualms about rolling out of bed, morning wood popping out from their briefs like a fucking beacon.

“oh, shit,” jordan yawns when slide the covers off, giving way to the immense boner throbbing against their boxer-briefs. they don’t even have the decency to look sheepish when they walk past you, adjusting themselves lazily. you don’t miss the grunt of relief that escapes them as their hand palms their crotch before they disappear into the bathroom, either. or the little groans of relief that sound behind the door before they saunter out, towelling their hands with the stupidest grin on their face.

it shouldn’t piss you off as much as it does, except for the fact that even when jordan rouses without morning wood (or wood in general); they end up making their usual bathroom trip anyways. noises slipping from a half-ajar door and toilet lid left slippery, as always.

they have to be doing it on purpose. they have to be. like, they left their strap-on on your desk once. which, first of all, gross. second of all, why was it so fucking big?

“jordan!” you holler, aghast as you nudge the thing on your desk, conveniently placed right next to your laptop.

“oh! that’s where i left it. sick.” jordan grins as they saunter over, veined hands reaching over to wrap around the shiny, plastic length and fuck, since when were their palms so massive—

“thanks, roomie.” they ruffle your hair with an impish glint in their eyes, smile only growing when you jerk away with a scowl.

and that’s not even the worst of it.

“oh, shit—was that yours?” to their credit, jordan looks somewhat sheepish as they pinch a rock-hard pair of socks off the floor. your fucking socks, which have clearly been well-loved and cared for in places other than your shoes.

“those were my favourite!” they weren’t your favourites. they’re socks. however, it makes jordan wince, which almost makes it worth it.

hey, a little remorse is better than nothing.

“..i’ll buy you a new pair?” jordan offers, scratching the nape of their neck. you’re almost content to let the awkwardness linger just give them just a piece of the torture you’ve been subjected to for the past several weeks — except the sliver of satisfaction is completely negated by the way jordan’s lip twitches upwards, like they’re fighting back a smirk.

“you little fuck—“

anyways, the point is jordan wanks. a lot.

you can’t stop thinking about it. because it’s annoying. and disrespectful. and god, do they think you want to hear every pretty little moan that falls from their mouth? every grunt and groan that slips from their throat in that raspy, godforsaken timber—

long story short; if you have to find a wadded up sock or sticky residue at the bottom of the computer desk one more time, you’re going to lose it.

you think jordan knows it, too.

it’s midnight when you wake up to the sound of a bed creaking.

you’re an early sleeper, jordan isn’t. it works. you’re typically long knocked out before they even make it back in the dorm, out there doing god knows what. today, though, you’d far overestimated your ability to finish your latest assignment; so when jordan finally staggered through the door, slumping into bed with a little grunt, you thought nothing of it.

minutes pass, and the bed shifts. jordan groans. under the moonlight you can see the shadowed visage of their figure, splayed out on their bed with one hand underneath the covers; moving, repeatedly.

jordan grunts again, and you squint; bleary eyes adjusting to the darkness. the muffled, wet sound of slapping resounds, subdued by the weight of the blanket. if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were—

“mm, fuck—” jordan moans, blanket slipping down their hips and—oh my fucking god.

like pulling back a curtain, jordan’s cock springs enthusiastically to the surface; standing tall and proud as their fist pumps up and down the thick, veined girth of their length. it’s practically pulsating with need, bordering on desperate—they must be desperate, because jordan’s shameless, sure, but.. jacking off in the same room as you?

you didn’t think they were that much of a fucking perv.

but maybe you’re a perv too, because the moment jordan’s hips rock upwards and their tip glimmers in a thick sheen of pre-cum; you can feel the telltale surge of heat in your stomach, the fabric of your panties dampening and oh, this can’t seriously be happening right now.

“fuck—motherfucker..” jordan hisses, drawing your bleary-eyed gaze from the flushed, throbbing bob of their cock to their pink cheeks and fucked-out face, mouth lolling in pleasure. they twist their head, nosing into something tossed onto their pillow that makes you stop in their tracks.

that’s.. you thought you lost that!

“need ‘m—so—fucking bad..” jordan slurs stiltedly, nuzzling into your shirt like their life depends on it. “fuckin’—stupid fucking—”

your stomach tightens, and you can’t help it when your fingers dip down under your shorts, slipping into your cunt. you should be mad, should be disgusted, should be shoving open the door and ripping them out of their covers and.. wrapping your mouth around their adorably flushed tip? seizing their hips and yanking their cock into your tight, wet little—

"oh, fuck," jordan interrupts your thought process by growling through their teeth, precum spilling from the slit of their dick and glazing their palms. there’s so much of it, so wet that even in the dark you can see the stain pooling in their sweatpants, their bedsheets.

you’re so entranced you barely even register when it when their grip releases; length arcing and splattering thick ropes of cum against their abdomen. the sight is so mesmerising that you almost don’t pick up on the sound of your fucking name that tears out of their throat—husky and half gargled as jordan’s chest heaves. you don’t even realise you’ve been holding your breath until jordan’s figure simply lays there, pants echoing in the silent room.

they wrap your shirt around their dick and wipe it clean. it’s only when they murmur something unintelligible—burying their nose back into your jumper that you finally, finally turn away, fingers curling deep inside your cunt.

fucking hell.

the second time it happens, you are wide, wide awake. which unfortunately means you have no excuse for the minutes seared into your memory and sticky residue on your thighs.

granted, at first you didn’t know. as always, the bathroom door hangs carelessly agape. steam curls from the room, wafting up and dispersing in the stuffy dorm air. what lingers, however, is the fresh note of jordan’s shampoo, body wash, and something.. saltier, headier.

whatever. with nothing more than an arched brow, you pick over the discarded basketball shorts and tank tops that litter the floor, intending to kick the bathroom door shut and be on your way. it’s when your hand reaches out, closing around the cool metal that you see it.

jordan’s slumped against the slick shower wall, fingers buried knuckle-deep into their pussy.

oh, shit shit shit—

“shit..” jordan hisses, muscles working like well-oiled sprigs as they pump into their cunt, droplets of water trickling down their skin and pooling into the divots of their body.

your hand tightens around the doorknob. god, their moans.. if they think the sound of the showerhead can disguise the filthy nothings spilling out of their mouth, they are very, very wrong.

somewhere between the fuck’s and annoying’s and pretty fuckin’ prude’s their full-weight crumples against the shower wall, plush ass pressing up against steaming glass like some (high-quality) porn ad as they ram their fingers in one last time, free hand shooting out wildly to grasp at nothing before the shower wall splatters with something you only catch a glimpse of before you’re slamming the bathroom door, cheeks burning and fingers trembling. with a start, you realise you’ve almost wrenched the goddamn metal off.

the doorknob is always a little bit loose, after that.

you’re getting ready for a party.

well, you’re supposed to be getting ready for a party, hence the sultry eyeshadow, glossy press of your lips and sheer amount of skin laid bare. your crop-top is just a little bit too high, mini-skirt more than a little too short.

in reality? you’re enacting your fucking vegeance.

jordan likes you. it’s a fact that stares you right in the face. and if not a crush, it’s a massive, raging hard-on. for you—only you—citing a certain roommate’s post-nut ramblings you’ve heard one too many times.

as it turns out, jordan becomes considerably less insufferable when you know you’re the only thing that gets their dick wet.

“how do i look?” you call, doing a little twirl. it’s impossible to keep the smirk off your face, skirt flipping very purposely upwards as you spin, revealing a tad more than they ever (usually) get to see.

jordan glances up, and their breath fucking hitches.

bingo.

“what?” you cock your head, lashes batting innocuously as they stare. playing the oblivious role is just too sweet, especially when your eyes flicker down, just for a moment, and you can see the bulge in their sweatpants growing.

poor little jordan, hard because their roommate flashed a millisecond of ass.

“you look—good.” they grunt, tone carefully measured. their gaze lingers, only for another moment before they abruptly snap their vision back to their screen. an admirable effort, really. if only their cheeks were a little less red, cock a little less needy.

“well don’t flatter me too much,” you twist away, lips twitching upwards. feigning normalcy is easy, seeing as how you’ve been doing so ever since that first night. you're practically buzzing with anticipation when you make a big show of leaving the room, snarky comment and all.

and really, jordan could've waited for longer than two minutes before moaning that raspy, broken moan (you're so intimately familiar with) from behind the door.

your lips split into a grin, and when you slide the door back open, the look on jordan's face is so priceless you hope it'll be seared into your memory forever.

“shit!"

it’s undeniable, this time. you’re no longer a fly on the wall, and they’re no longer blanketed by the illusion of secrecy; caught red-handed with their cock in their fist and head on your pillow.

“wait—fuck—i can expl—!”

like clockwork, jordan's cock twitches as if in reaction, and a drop of fresh semen spurts from their tip before trickling down to join the messy puddle on their stomach.

“i thought—fuck! you said you were going!”

“that doesn’t sound like an apology to me.”

you delight in the way jordan flushes, their breath hitching. they take a ragged breath before they make a valiant attempt to cover up their falter with aggression. "doesn't mean anything," they retort through gritted teeth, mustering up as much conviction as they can.

it’s adorable, how much they pretend they don’t want you as if they don’t jack off to the smell of your sweatshirt every night.

“shut the fuck up.” you roll your eyes, novelty of the movement finally wearing thin. you have needs too—and with a fluid movement, you slide onto the bed and yank their hips against yours, pulling them into a straddle over your torso.

jordan can't help but hiss at the sudden contact, hips jerking instinctively. "fuck, you're cold," they mutter under their breath, though there's no denying the thrill running through them; hips bucking forward into the touch of your cool fingers as they wrap around their hard member. it feels euphoric—the contrast between your heat and coldness heightening every single nerve ending in their body. the tip of their cockhead brushing against your belly button, dripping a thin line of hot, sticky fluid after it.

“go on.” you coo, eyebrows raised.

jorda’s hands fly almost immediately to the hem of your skirt. so eager, like an impatient puppy.

before you curl your hand around their wrist, grip firm and punishing.

they freeze, head cocking like a confused puppy. “huh?” they say, biting back a noise of complaint. they want you so bad its goddamn gruelling; their fingers twitching around nothing, screaming in impatience, let me fuck you, let me ruin you already. don’t you know how long i’ve been waiting? how long you’ve kept me fucking waiting?

of course you know. they don’t know that, though.

“you’re not gonna do anything?” despite all their irritating, fratboy-esque bravado; jordan’s unable to prevent the whininess from seeping into their tone, hands tugging insistently at the hem of your skirt. their cock pulses, painful and needy.

“you have hands, don’t you?” your lips quirk at the way jordan’s expression drops and their mouth opens again, probably to protest until you yank their thighs open and press them forward, dick pressing flush against your torso.

"unnhnnngh.." jordan grunts, gasping for air while trying to maintain eye contact with you—an impossible task considering how goddamn desperate they are. their free hand grabs hold of your waist, grinding sloppily as precum spurts all over your chest. “f-fuck off," they hiss, lips crashing against yours, teeth knocking at their eagerness.

“goddamn tease—” they groan, rutting against your torso, to no avail. they bury their face into your collar, utterly miserable, fingers twisting into the hem of your shirt. “just get the fuck on with it—ahnnn.. f-fuck—”

“so mouthy,” you tease, delighted at the mewl that slips past jordan’s lips when your hand wraps around their tip. their chain necklace swings wildly, bucking their hips desperately into your fist.

“hands feel so fuckin’ good,” jordan sputters, drooling almost as much as their dick is. their fumbling grasp finds purchase in your shoulders as they pump themselves into your hand; you barely even have to move, with them doing most of the work.

“need to be— inside—“ jordan grunts; glassy eyes blinking down at you like it’ll change your mind just like that. it’s cute, how they look when they’re not scowling or fucking smirking at you. it’s even cuter, the way they inhale sharply when you shake your head and deliver a cool “no, baby,” their back arching when you cup one of their balls and squeeze, forced into dismal acceptance with a keening whine.

jordan’s movements are getting unsteady, now. eyes glazing over by the second. “y’gonna make me cum,” they slur, grip on your hips tightening. it only takes a moment before their movements stutter and they’re muttering “fuck fuck fuck oh, fuck!“ and a long, gargled moan rips from their throat and all of a sudden hands wrapped around cock are sinking in wet, sloppy heat; your fingers sliding knuckle-deep into their pussy with almost breath-taking ease.

“jesus christ!” jordan croons in sheer, unexpected pleasure as they feel you shove yourself inside them, cum spurting and squeezing out helplessly from between their walls and your fingers. they squirt so fucking messily, their leaking cock replaced by a cunt spilling out out all over your palm.

“i didn’t—didn’t mean to—” they slur, panic two steps behind their mouth. struggling to sling anything coherent together with you kneading your fingers into their pussy like its goddamn putty. “oh?” you arch a brow, and jordan visibly flushes, moaning openly when your digits curl.

“can’t–don’t really—”

“what? fuck yourself?” is your reply, because you both know they fucking do; it’s not like you don’t how their pussy sounds when it’s sliding slick against their pillow, how your name sounds cried out, thick through the muzzle of your jumper.

it’s a dual guilty pleasure—you watch, they do. at this point, you can’t tell who’s the more perverted out of the two of you.

jordan. definitely jordan.

“too busy humping my clothes, is that it?” you purr, and jordan honest to god whimpers, squirming away from your fingers both out of overstimulation and plaintive shame. “ah, ah,” you tut, nails digging into their hips as you hold them in place, finger thumbing harshly against their clit as they cry out a gargled moan.

“f-fuck off—” jordan hisses, practically an admission of guilt itself. they seem to know it, too, with the way they abandon all pretence and pound violently against your knuckles—their gaze burning into yours like they’re daring you to say another word. “don’t act like you didn’t—shit—fucking like it.” jordan gasps out between sputters, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“hm?” you pause, eyes meeting jordan’s heated, quivering stare. “jerk off to watching me?” they choke, eyes glossing over when you thrust “did you fuck yourself to my—mmhnn—!”

an easy, all-too-familiar eye roll graces your face before you shut them up with your fingers. their pussy clenches; hot, slippery walls gripping your digits as if afraid to let go. oh, this is too easy.

“don’t get cute with me, roomie.” the nickname tastes sweet on your tongue, and jordan’s face grows hotter. a well-timed thumb to their clit flickers their bravado out like a light. “fucking hell!” they gasp, mouth gaping into a moan and eyes rolling back into their skull.

“you wanted me to watch, didn’t you?” you coo, and jordan squirms; mouth open in protest—or at least attempts at them, what with the way they keep gasping out in pleasure as you roll your fingers against their clit.

“shut the fuck—i didn’t—”

“a pervert and a liar now, are we?”

jordan makes a noise somewhere between a hiss and a whine, crying out when you slide two more fingers into the slick canal of their core. their eyes screw shut, hands seizing so wildly into the mattress you almost think they’re about to tear a hole through the bedsheets.

“god! fuck—i can’t—”

they cry out your name when they cum, and even if its a sound you’ve heard countless times by now you don’t think it’ll ever get old. “that’s it, baby.” you coo, lips curling upwards at the way they bury their face into your collar.

they lie there, panting, for what feels like forever before a muffled, half-delusional groan leaves their lips.

“oh, fuuuckk..”

“what?”

“..i thought i would top.”

#(っ ‘o’)ﾉ⌒💥my works !#૮ smut🔞#inbox !#jordan li #jordan li x reader #jordan li fanfic #jordan li headcanons #jordan li smut #gen v #gen v smut #gen v x reader #gen v fanfic #gen v headcanons

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azsazz · 3 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 14)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,355

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Masterlist]

Notes: Okay I'm a lil sad for my baby azzy in this part 😭

_________________________________________

“Listen kid,” the tattoo artist across the table from him sighs, and Azriel already knows what’s going to come out of his mouth.

This interview hadn’t been going well since he stepped through the door to Steppes Ink. The guy who was supposed to be conducting the interview for an apprenticeship at the parlor—a lanky lad tatted up with the worst ink Azriel’s ever seen…is that a clock dripping blood for fucks sake?—had forgotten he was even giving an interview today.

He—Brad? Chad? Something or other, he suspects—hadn’t listened to a word Azriel said when he spoke about his time tattooing. That it was his passion. That he wants to make a career out of it. Instead, the guy had kicked his sneaker clad feet up onto the edge of the table and flipped through his portfolio, not allowing Azriel to speak on his work.

He’d seen the look the fucker had given him when he’d pulled his portfolio out of his bag. The way he stared openly at his latex gloved hands as he held the book out, stuffed full of drawings and pictures of tattoos he’s given both at parties and his art focused study groups.

Azriel thinks it’s an impressive show of skill, but this fucker doesn’t.

He doesn’t even want to apprentice here anyway, not after all of this, but he’s running out of tattoo parlors to apply to in town. He’s not against driving out to the next town over because he has a reliable source of transportation, but driving all the way out after his classes is something he’d rather not have to do.

Azriel sets his jaw. He’s more than ready to pack his things and leave, maybe swing a fist at the fucker on his way out. He had been ready to go when the second comment out of this shithead's mouth was, “Taking cleanliness to a whole new level there, ey kid?” In response to his gloved hands. He’s glad he’d worn them, because he knows if he hadn’t, it would’ve been something much more insulting spewing from his lips instead.

He’s had better interviews with the same result. The fact that he keeps putting himself through this shows his determination, but Azriel would be lying if he said that the plethora of no’s he receives wasn’t disheartening. He feels like he’s come a long way since his accident, when he’d essentially had to relearn how to hold his pencils, charcoal sticks, and tattoo gun.

All of that pride he felt is slowly deteriorating like an ages old painting.

“I think you’re very talented with your sketches, but it’s not translating into your tattoos,” the man starts, scratching his patchy beard. He sucks his teeth, but it doesn’t help get rid of the cluster of food jammed between them that Azriel has been talking to for the past forty minutes. Yeah, he really does not want to work here. Not only is this guy disgusting, he’s seen at least three violations the second he walked into the parlor alone.

Imagine if he had to put up with this shit everyday.

The man continues, because he doesn’t really know how to shut up. “Your lines are all jagged, and we can’t have that. I’d be happy to look at your work again next semester when you have a little more experience.”

No. Fucking. Thanks.

Azriel grinds his teeth because he doesn’t know what else to do. How many times has he heard this line before? He knows, Mother help him he fucking knows that his lines aren’t the straightest, but he’s come a long way, and his more recent tattoos aren’t suffering because of it.

Why won’t anyone just give him a fucking chance?

“I understand,” Azriel nods, and it takes a lot more effort to keep his tone neutral when he replies.

He’s thankful that the guy can’t see how white-knuckled his fists are under the table.

“What made you want to get into tattooing, anyway?” The man flips his portfolio shut with a harsh snap. The way he says it makes Azriel feel like he’s about to be told that he should find a backup plan. He has one already, but this fucker doesn’t need to know that.

Who does this guy think he is anyway? He has a bleeding clock and a lion head on his arm for fucks sake. It even has a mechanical eye. And he’s sure that if he lifts the sleeves of his cut off flannel, he’ll be showing a plethora of gears forever marked onto his pale skin, too.

“Every tattoo has a story,” Azriel answers, because it’s something he believes with his whole heart, and maybe, just maybe, this fucker can relate to that.

The idiot has the audacity to cock his head, questioningly. “Is that so?”

“The one’s I get do,” Azriel responds stiffly, and he hopes that this interview is over because he can’t bear to sit here a moment longer. What’s with all of the follow up questions? He’s already said no, so why the fuck is he still interrogating him?

Azriel is being looked at like he’s some dumb college kid with no idea what he wants to do with his life, and he fucking hates that. He knows exactly what he wants to do once he graduates, and that’s to be a tattoo artist, hence trying to find an apprenticeship at a local shop. Right now, he’s starting to wonder if all of the shop owners have meetings together where they talk about the kid in black gloves and tell each other not to hire him.

Either way, he’s beyond fucking annoyed.

“Well, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me,” Azriel says, gathering his things. The guy looks at his gloved hands again and he knows that the question is on the tip of his tongue so he hurries, shoving his portfolio into his bag and standing from his chair.

“No problem kid. Like I said, work on it and maybe next semester—”

“Right,” Azriel forces a smile like he’s never had to before. It feels like cutting steel, and he’s sure it looks more threatening than genuine. “Thanks.��

He dips out of the shop before the fucker can ask anymore questions.

He’s glad he didn’t even care to remember his name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The wind against his body and the rumble of his motorcycle makes things slightly better.

Azriel tries to let the interview roll off of his shoulders with the current pressing against his body, but it just isn’t happening.

Usually, he enjoys the ride. The way taking the curves a little too fast makes his heart stutter in a rapid pace, the smooth asphalt beneath his wheels wiping his worries away, but there’s something about tonight that has him feeling like he’d rather just put on some music, wallow in his bed, and work on his sketches.

He’ll show that fucker.

It had gone shittier than all of the other interviews he’s had. Four, to be specific. Four interviews, where three of them had mentioned his shaky linework, two of them had told him to come back next semester, and one had been conducted by a total fucking idiot.

His hands are shaking now, memories of the accident dredged up from the way the last interviewer was staring at him. He can still feel his beady gaze on his hands, like he was some fucking specimen to be examined under a microscope. Maybe if Azriel had peeled back the latex and showed him the damage of his scars, the guy would’ve left him the fuck alone.

He knows that that’s not how it would’ve gone, though. Guys like him always ask more questions, and Azriel does not want to repeat that story to someone like that.

His gloves are still on, clenched tightly around his handlebars. He can’t ride like this, needs to stop, but he’s two blocks from his apartment now and he just wants to be home.

The fact that he can still feel the phantom touch of your body pressed up close to him every time he rides his bike now helps distract him. It subconsciously eases the trembling in his hands, and Azriel relaxes only slightly. He still doesn’t like you, but the way your thighs had pressed so firmly around his body had felt like being completely doused in warmth. He hadn’t even needed his jacket while the cold rain pounded down on the both of you, because with your chest pressed tightly against his back, your hands around his waist, he was nearly sweating.

He wonders if you had felt the same. Like there was lightning zipping up your rigid spine. If your heart was thundering as loudly as his. If you just wanted to keep going like he did, pass the town up and go on to the next—

Azriel nearly passes the apartment building whilst he’s distracted. Cassian’s big, beat up bronco is a red flag waving at him from its usual spot in front of the building. Literally, the crimson rust bucket is an eyesore, and he’s surprised they haven’t gotten any complaints from the landlord about it bringing the value of the building down.

He jerks to a stop and backs his motorcycle up in front of the truck. Always parking in the closest to the corner, Cassian had said, so that no one can block him in. Azriel hadn’t known if it had been a slight jab from when he’d trapped your and Feyre’s moving truck in on your first day here, but he’d laughed nonetheless.

There are people wandering in and out of the building. Giggling groups of girls and guys carrying racks of beers on their shoulders, hooting and hollering, eye-fucking the girls in their short skirts as they wait for the elevator. There’s parties up and down the building all weekend, and Azriel prays that for once, Cassian has decided to wander down a few floors to find a fuck instead of hosting another party.

His prayers are not answered.

When Azriel shoves through the stairwell out onto the fourth floor, the music hits him like a fucking truck. It’s bass-heavy, blaring down the hall like a goddamn rave. Internally, he groans, shoving his way through the people loitering in the hall, ignoring the more than interested looks he receives from a group of girls, staring him down like a pack of hungry hyenas.

Fuck, he really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

It’s late enough that the pregame should be finishing soon, but knowing Cassian, it’s only just beginning.

Azriel had stopped off at the local diner for something sweet to take his mind off of the awful interview. It hadn’t helped his shakiness at all, the anger coursing through his veins, not even when his favorite waitress Rita had brought him a small fry on the house and put an extra cherry on top of his shake, then proceeded to sit with him for a bit to check in.

He loves Rita. He, Cassian, and Rhysand used to frequent the diner often during freshman year, when they had no transportation and were broke art students. Rita had always taken care of them, but now, the tradition seems to have dwelled as they’ve gotten older and are able to attend bars and have the money for restaurants that don’t only serve smash burgers and shakes.

Azriel’s pretty sure he’s the only one that still visits out of the three.

His apartment is packed to the brim. He can smell the alcohol and sweat in the air, the stench of it makes his nose scrunch. He could use a fucking drink right now, he thinks, but he doesn’t do it often because it only makes his hands shake more and that’s the last thing he needs right now.

Upon first glance he doesn’t see either of his roommates, and then Cassian is barrelling through the crowd as if he has a sixth sense for knowing when Azriel enters a room.

“Hey, man,” Cassian grins wildly, throwing his arm around his shoulder. The drink in his cup sloshes precariously close to the rim of his glass, and Azriel grimaces. His roommates eyes are blurry with drink, and he’s swaying a bit, leaning his body weight against him. Hopefully, he hasn’t tripped and crushed anyone with his sheer size, because it wouldn’t bode well for the person trapped beneath the behemoth. “Are you setting up tonight? There’s these two chicks that want to get tatted up. Underboob.” Cassian waggles his eyebrows and grins like he’s just caught a glimpse of heaven. “Matching.”

“Not in the mood,” Azriel grunts, pushing past his roommate. He hates every second of shoving through this crowd, bodies plastered against his own like the ink on his arms. He wonders if the loud music is bothering you on the other side of the thin wall, and then he shoves that thought straight from his mind because he doesn't care.

He does care that it’s bothering him, though.

Azriel digs his keys from his pocket. The lock on his door was added after their first party and he’d found a couple right about about to fuck on his bed.

He’s the only one that gets to do that, even if he hasn’t touched another girl in months. He’s been too much of a surly bastard to even want to pursue a girl, and he knows they wouldn’t want him touching them with his fucked up hands, despite the glowing eyes feeding off of his appearance in the hall.

Someone bumps into him and he nearly smacks his head into the door. Azriel chokes back the growl threatening to crawl from his throat, and decides against whirling around to bark at whoever’s run into him. His grip on the knob tightens.

There’s a soft light emitting from his room when he opens the door, the lamp beside his bed glowing. Azriel releases an exasperated huff, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders, but it skyrockets when he notices the lump tucked tightly into his covers.

It’s you, and you’re in his bed.

Two thoughts pass through his mind so quickly he can hardly discern one from the other.

One, what the fuck are you doing in his bed?

And two, who the fuck let you in his room?

Okay, so the second question is easier to answer than the first. It’s obvious that Cassian must have let you into his room, because he’s pretty sure the fucker had made a copy of the key the second day he’d put the lock on his door. Azriel hadn’t let him in when he’d been trying to get him to smell four different colognes he got as samples in a magazine, so his roommate took it into his own hands to make sure Azriel could never be in his room in peace.

The first question, however, makes no sense. You live right next door for fucks sakes, so what the fuck are you doing here?

Azriel stares. He can’t help himself, he’s frozen in the doorway until Cassian’s belting voice complaining about the pop song that the playlist has switched to snaps him from his stupor. He ducks inside of his room, shoving the door shut behind him, and flicking the lock.

He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

He’s staring at your sleeping form like you’re only pretending to sleep, armed with a weapon and hoping he comes closer. You’ll pop out at him and scare the shit out of him and then Rhys will fall out of the closet laughing and Cassian will burst through the door, falling to his knees in hysterics.

But you’re not moving. You’re curled up on your side, and a metal mixing bowl sits on the table next to his bed, the small stack of books that is normally stacked there spilled haphazardly, one face down on the floor.

There’s a glass of water next to the bowl, and Azriel doesn’t like that it sits so close to his books, despite it being only half full.

His bag falls from his shoulder and he slings it over the back of his desk chair, all while keeping his eyes pinned to your sleeping form. His dark sheets rise and fall shallowly with each breath you take, your lips parted slightly, unbothered by the intrusion and the loud music shaking the walls.

You must be used to it by now.

This is weird. This is so fucking weird that Azriel doesn’t even know what to do with himself but his feet move him closer to the bed against his better judgement. No, this is fucking beyond creepy now, with him looming over you like this, watching you sleep.

His fingers itch and he rips the gloves off of his hands, tossing the latex into the trash by his desk. His fingers flex, and Azriel gulps down a fresh breath of air now that his sweating hands can breathe.

Doing so doesn’t stop that feeling, though. The one where he wants to feel that familiar pencil in his hand, charcoal coating his fingers. There’s a blooming in his mind, inspiration swiping the foulness of his interview away. He need to grab his sketchbook and flip it to a clean page and start drawing the curve of your—

No. He scolds himself, shaking his head furiously and backing away. He trips over your shoes, discarded in a pile on the floor, but he doesn’t eat shit. Maybe if he did it would help clear his mind from this. The way your presence has painted over his tainted night, when he should be more angry to see you occupying his space, but instead, he feels more intrigued.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be looking at the way his sheet is draped across your body. You’re still clothed, and Azriel is more than thankful for that. He shouldn’t be admiring your quiet, peaceful side, not when he’s so used to seeing that crease between your brows and frown tugging your lips whenever he’s around. He shouldn’t be brushing the strand of hair falling across your face behind your ear—

Azriel jerks his hand away from you. He hadn’t realized that he’d moved closer, had been leaning in like what? Like he was going to caress that smooth skin of yours? No, that’s not happening. Now or ever.

He bolts from his room, but not before making sure he locks it behind him. He feels frantic again, like his skin is stretched too tight over his bones. He needs to find Rhys because the music is making his head spin and he’s so, so close to spiraling right now.

Stumbling through the living room to the other side of the apartment, Azriel reaches Rhysand’s door. He hopes it’s unlocked, because being alone right now sounds even better than having to be around anyone right now.

It’s fucking locked.

Azriel pounds on the door. There’s an urgency to it that Rhysand must hear, because he’s cracking the door open a bit and Azriel is met with his glowing violet eyes and naked chest.

“What’s up Az? I’m a little…busy at the moment.”

He doesn’t need to peek over his shoulder to know that Feyre’s waiting for him in his bed right now.

“I, ah—nothing man. It’s nothing,” he mumbles, turning away from the door. None of his questions are being answered. If everyone's over here, why is no one at your apartment? Why aren’t you in your own bed? “What the fuck,” he grumbles, scanning the crowd of gyrating bodies in the middle of his living room.

He spots Cassian somewhere near the middle, a group of girls rubbing their bodies up against his. They’re so close together they look like a pack of sardines, and Cassian is their king. He’s laughing, making suggestive eyes at at least three of them.

Sometimes, Azriel wishes he was that carefree.

With nothing else to do, he makes his way to the kitchen.

He needs a fucking drink.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #modern!azriel #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar au

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romantichomicide95 · 3 months

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geto suguru x virgin!reader

summary: reader is gojos virgin step sister. when geto gets her alone he wants to teach her a thing or two.

-> 3kish words. minors dni.

"You know what I like about you?" Geto suddenly spoke up, interrupting the quiet hum of the movie you had been watching together. His voice broke through the silence, drawing your attention away from the screen.

Earlier that day, you had found yourself unexpectedly joining Satoru and Geto for a night in after your best friend got sick and had to cancel your own movie plans. Seeing how sad and dejected you were your step-brother, Satoru, invited you to have a few beers with him and his best friend Geto.

As step-siblings you and Satoru had a pretty close bond. You were only a few months apart and had really only been step-siblings for a few years. So instead of years of fighting, you met as teenagers and over a few years grew to become friends. He had become almost like a true big brother. The only real problem was your crush on his extremely attractive, and extremely charming best friend Suguru Geto. And now, of course as fate would have it, Satoru had gone to bed and left you two all alone.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze from the corner of your eye. His face was illuminated by the flickering light of the tv, which cast shadows across his strong jawline and high cheekbones. A smalll but cocky smirk played at the corners of his lips as he leaned back against the couch, his shoulders relaxed.

"Uh- what about me?" you asked, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies that fluttered ever so annoyingly in your stomach.

“You don't pretend to be someone you're not." He paused for a moment, turning to face you completely. His eyes narrowing and that smirk growing slightly bigger. "I think that's why I've always been attracted to you."

You felt your heart sink into your chest, not in a bad way but in a holy shit is this real kind of way. You swallowed before shakily responding, “You’re… attracted to me?”

"Yeah," replied, "You’re pretty fucking sexy." He said, and as the words left his lips you felt his hand brush softly against your thigh. “Sometimes I think you wear these short skirts just to drive me crazy.” He continued.

Your eyes fell to his hand which was now planted firmly on your thigh than back up to him. His eyes were dark and intense, and you hoped he couldn’t hear the quickening pace of your heart beating in your chest. “I-I just like skirts I guess.”

"Yeah, sure," Geto said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You just like skirts. Right." You couldn’t quite tell if he was teasing you or not but you couldn’t mull over it for long because suddenly he had leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “I'm not going to lie, I've thought about kissing you a million times. Satoru might kill me but, I just thought you should know.”

He pulled back slightly, giving you a chance to respond. At this point he had to know he was teasing you but you didn’t think he really care. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between his desire and his loyalty to his best friend.

Geto had always had this aura about him, this darker side. It contrasted the goofy carefree demeanor of your step-brother. But it also excited you, had you dangling on a string at every word that was falling out of those perfect lips of his.

“I-uh…guess I thought about it too.” You finally say, averting his gaze.

"Ha. I knew it, saw the way you looked at me," Geto said, a confident air to his tone. "Well then, why don't we stop thinking about it and just do it?" And with that, he wasted no time and leaned in, his lips pressing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that sent shivers down your spine in every sense of the phrase.

As you kissed him back, his tongue slid against your lips seeking access. Your lips parted, and Geto's tongue gently swept inside. As your tongues danced together his hand moved up your thigh, slowly inching towards your center. You gasped into the kiss, as he found what he was looking for. He rubbed soft circles over your panties. And you closed your legs slightly in response.

“Are you a virgin?” Geto asks pulling away from the kiss with another cocky smirk.

You shyly nod. “Y-yeah.”

Geto sucks in a breath and his eyes lit up. In his head he thinks your step-brother, or rather his best friend, might kill him for this…but he can’t help himself. Not when’s he already got a small taste of you, felt the tiny wet spot on your panties that just the slip of his tongue pulled from you. No, he was going for it. He’d deal with the consequences later.

He leaned in close again, giving your lips a quick peck. “Guess I’ll have to be gentle with you then yeah?” He whispered his lips fully connecting with yours again. He made his way across your jaw, down your neck and you thought it was probably the most erotic moment of your life, up until this point of course.

Getos hand moved up your skirt again, slightly pushing the fabric up to give him better access. “I’m gunna touch you first, has anyone ever touched you before?”

“N-no, just myself…” You admit.

“Oh yeah? I’ll make sure you enjoy it don’t worry.” He says and he leans back against the couch. “Take your clothes off for me can you do that?”

“I- I don’t know.” You say, suddenly feeling extremely hot and extremely shy.

“Come on baby, you’re so beautiful. Wanna see how much prettier you are without all that hiding you away.”

“Uhm…Okay.” You say, his words having his desired affect on you. You begin to take off your clothes. First stepping out of your skirt, than pulling your shirt off over your head and discarding it to the side.

“Keep going baby, already look so fucking sexy.” Geto says , his eyes fixated on every curvature of your body. He reaches out to trace his fingers along the fabric of your panties. “So so fucking sexy.” He says leaning back to watch you finish.

You remove your bra, revealing perfect breasts, nipples erect against the cool air. You took a moment to look at Geto whose eyes were fixated on your body, tracing your form hungrily. Finally, you pulled your panties down past your ankles and discarded them away.

You instinctively covered yourself with your arms but without another word Geto grabbed your hand and pulled you back onto the couch. With a gentle nudge, he pushed you backwards. His eyes traced the outline of your breasts, taking in every detail. They were perfect, just like the rest of you. With a smile, he leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. You moaned softly, arching your back slightly. He moved to the other breast, repeating the action. After a few moments, he lifted his head, looking into your eyes. "Do you like that?" he asked.

“Mmmm. Feels g-good.” You reply, biting your lip as he his dips down to suck and nip at your sensitive buds.

“Good, I’m gunna make you feel really good.” His kisses move from your breasts down your stomach and he stops just above your core. His eyes look up at you, dark and intense and he smirks against your skin when he sees the innocent look of pleasure etched across your face. He kisses down your thighs as he swipes a finger across your clit. You let out a gasp at the sensation.

Geto smiles, knowing that he had you exactly where he wanted you. As he slid a finger inside your tight hole, and then another, he continued his kisses along your thigh. His teeth grazed your skin and you quaked in anticipation as his kisses got closer and closer to your core. “I’m gunna make you cum pretty girl, want you to give it all to me.” He says confidently before his kisses meet your pussy lips. Your hips bucked slightly off the couch as his lips made contact and you shut your eyes focusing on the new pleasure.

He continued to explore your pussy, licking and sucking gently. Each stroke of his tongue brought forth little moans that escaped your lips. Slowly, he moved lower, his tongue delving deeper into your folds, tasting your juices and savoring the sweetness.

His tongue circled your clit, applying gentle pressure as he did so. You couldn’t take much more, your moans began to grow louder and Geto brought a hand up to your mouth, lifting his head momentarily. “Can’t be too loud baby, don’t want Satoru to hear.”

You nod and bit your lip trying to stifle your moans as Geto continued his assault on your clit, alternating between soft circles of his tongue and firm flicks. He could feel her body trembling beneath him, as your free gripped the couch below you. His fingers found his way inside of you again, curling up to massage your sweet spot. Geto groans as he feels you tighten around his fingers, his own body responding to the intense pleasure he's giving you. He continues to lap at your sweet pussy, his tongue flicking against your clit as he brings you to orgasm. You finally come apart beneath him, cumming against his tongue he laps up every last bit.

He comes up to look up at you, before standing up to remove his clothes. He strips himself down to his boxers and you can’t help but admire his broad shoulders and his tight perfectly sculpted abs. "Gunna make me feel good now yeah?”

You nod as he sits back on the couch. “Come here, sit right here…on your knees for me pretty girl.” He spreads his legs a bit and nods his head to the spot on the floor in front of him. You oblige, sitting right on your knees in between his legs.

He reaches down, running a thumb along your cheek. “Take it out. I’ll show you how to touch it.” He says, and you do so, pulling the band of his boxers down and letting his cock spring forward.

Geto's cock was big, and it twitched as he felt your hand wrap around it, his breath hitching in his throat. "That's it," he murmured, his voice rough and hoarse. "Stroke me slowly, baby." He watched as you tentatively moved your hand up and down his shaft, his eyes darkening at the image of you sitting innocent and pretty in front of him.

“Yeah…That's it," he encouraged, “Take your time pretty." He groaned softly, his hips bucking slightly as you continued to stroke him. "Fuck, you see what you do to me? Making me this hard." His words made an unfamiliar heat surge through your body and your brought your hand up to gently rub the tip. "Yeah, like that," he growled, his eyes locked on yours. “Not too fast, it’s a little sensitive at the tip.”

You continue to stroke him, as he guides your movements. “Use your other hand to play with my balls a little. Do it gently.” And you do so, using one hand to stroke him and the other to lightly massage his balls.

Geto's breathing became ragged as you continued to stroke his cock, his hips bucking slightly with each thrust of your hand. His eyes were filled with darkened lust as he watched you kneel before him, his gaze always watching you. "You look so fucking sexy, stroking me like this," he murmured, "I've wanted this for so long." He reached down, gently guiding your head towards his cock. "Take me in your mouth, can you do that?” he whispered, his voice trembling with need. "Make me feel good."

You look up at him, your innocent shy gaze meeting his hungry one. You lean down, giving the tip of his cock a few kitten licks. Truth be told you’re a little intimidated given his size, but you want to do everything in your power to make him feel good. So you finally slowly take him into your mouth.

Getos eyes rolled back in his head as you took him into your mouth, his hips bucking forward involuntarily. "Fuck, yeah," he groaned, “That's it, baby. Use your tongue." He reached down, gently running his fingers through your hair as you began to bob your head up and down his shaft. “Keep going, just like that. Don’t take your eyes off me.”

The sensation of your tongue against his shaft was amazing, and he couldn't help the grunts that escaped him. "So fucking good," he murmured. His voice coming out low and rough. "Gunna make me cum so hard." His cock twitched in your mouth, pre-cum dripping onto your tongue as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. He gripped the back of your head, pulling you closer into his lap as he began to thrust his hips up, fucking your mouth. He growls, his eyes locked on yours. "You’re doing so good. Such a good girl, keep going." Geto's cock throbbed in your mouth as you continued to suck him off, his hips bucking wildly. The sensation was overwhelming, and he couldn't help but let out a long, low moan. "Fuck, yeah," he groaned.

He watched you took his cock down your throat, and he couldn’t hold it in much longer. "Fuck…I’m gunna cum…Swallow it all!" His cock twitched one last time in your mouth, and then he let out a long, low moan. His cum suddenly shot out, filling your mouth quickly. It was thick and salty, and you swallowed it all down without hesitation.

Geto pulled out of your mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck," he muttered. "That was amazing." He reached down, gently stroking your cheek. "You did so fucking good, can’t believe you’ve never done that." Then, with a soft smile, he leaned in and kissed you gently on the forehead.

“We should go continue this in your bedroom yeah?” He says pulling you up into his lap.

“We can…yeah.” You say grabbing your clothes and leading him to your room. You knew it was probably better for your first time but now that this all was happening so quick the nerves started to flow through you.

Geto followed you into your room. You climbed into your bed, and he joined you. He hovered over you and as your eyes met he gave you a soft smile. He took his finger to your chin to lift it slightly as he looked into your eyes. “Hey. Pretty girl, don’t be nervous, you want to do this right?”

You smiled back and gave him a nod. “Yeah…I do.” You assured him and with that he leaned down to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth. He let the kiss linger this time, as his hands roamed over your body.

Geto finally broke the kiss, leaning back slightly to look into your eyes. "Ready?" he asked. You nodded. With a grin, he positioned himself between your legs, his cock poised at your entrance. "This might hurt a little bit," he warned, "But I’ll take it slow to minimize the pain." He paused, waiting for you to respond. When you nodded, he slowly pushed forward, his cock sliding into your tight pussy. You gasped, your eyes widening and your nails digging into his back as he entered you slowly.

His lips parted and a low groan escaped him…”Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, “You okay?” You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps. Encouraged, he began his thrusts, slowly picking up speed.

He watched your reactions. The sight of you writhing beneath him, drove him admittedly a little wild. He thrust harder, deeper, his rhythm becoming increasingly more urgent.

"Pussy feels so good grippin my cock like that." he groaned, “Startin’ to feel good yeah?”

You nodded, your eyes closed tightly as you tried to focus. Geto grinned, watching your face contort with the pleasure that was slowly overriding the pain. He could tell you were starting to enjoy it which only fueled his need for you. He picked up his pace, his cock sliding in and out of your wet heat faster and faster.

"Want me to fuck you harder?" He asked, his voice low and coarse. You nodded eagerly, your eyes widening with excitement. That was all the encouragement he needed. He grabbed your legs, lifting them up and resting them on his shoulders. The positioning allowing him the tip of his cock to hit your sweet spot repeatedly.

“Pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock.” He says leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss. He bit your bottom lip as he drilled his cock further and further into your wetness. The sensation drove him a bit mad, the way your pussy gripped him so eagerly. “Love the way my cock is stretching you open huh pretty girl?”

“Mmm. Yes…Feels so good Geto, gunna cum.” You moan out and as if on queue he reaches between you his fingers circling your clit. You can’t control yourself much longer and your walls tighten around his cock as you feel orgasm wash over you.

Hearing your cries of pleasure only intensifies his own. He thrust harder, faster, determined to join you in blissful orgasm. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum too!" He groaned, his hips bucking against yourswildly.

And then, with one final thrust, he cums, his cock pulsing inside your wet heat as he releases his seed.

Finally, exhausted, he collapses on the bed beside you. "Goddamn, that was incredible." He reachesover, gently caressing your face. "We should keep doing that but uh…keep this between us for now yeah? Satoru’ll be so pissed."

#jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #suguru geto #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x reader smut #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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rafescurtainbangz · 2 months

Text

Distractions - Rafe Cameron One Shot +18

Minor DNI

Frat!Rafe x Female Reader

Ask:

Eek!!! Thanks for your ask! Frat!Rafe has a special place in my cewchie heart. I hope you're having a great weekend!

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Tags: @imyourdaninow @humanvampire13 @akashababy @dckweed @ashamedtobeawhitemanswhore27

@marahgubler @joannamuns9n @h34rtsformilli @romaescapes @jayla @randymeeksistheloml @waywardsoul113 @gri959 @redhead1180

Warnings: SMUT, language, name-calling, drinking

Tiddie fucking, pet names (baby girl, rafey, baby), choking, spitting, tit slapping, cum play, degradation, Rafe is distracted, reader teases Rafe

✨Lightly edited✨

Rafe’s POV:

Four years and not a single loss, and here I stand, three cups away from defeat because I can’t stop staring at her fuckin’ tits.

“For fuck sake, Cameron. Can you-”

“Focus, Top? I am.” I snip in frustration as her friend hugs her from the side, pushing her breasts together. I swallow hard, trying my best to concentrate in the same breath as my defense. It's useless. Her body was made for sex. Made for me. Look at those fucking tits. She's mine. Sex... All the fucking time. Whenever I want. Just gotta get her alone.

“You're a mess,” Topper chuckles as he pulls yet another SOLO cup off the rack, lifting it to his lips

She lofts the ball, landing it in the front cup. Kill me now. Her tits move with her, bouncing as she celebrates with her sorority sister, blissfully unaware of the anguish she’s putting me through as well as the pressure of the hard-on in my jeans.

One of my frat brothers walks by, resting a hand on the small of her back. She looks over her shoulder; his gaze drifting from her cleavage to her eyes. She smiles brightly as he feeds her some bullshit line. “Time out!” I boom from across the table, pulling her attention back to me.

Top turns to face me, but I swerve around him, working my way to the other end as her doe eyes match mine, widening as they stare up at me. “You okay, Rafe?” She asks sweetly; her lashes flutter innocently, back slightly arched. The muscles in my body tighten as I hold back my primal urges to gawk. I scrunch my nose and suck my teeth in annoyance. “Rafe?”

“Uh yeah,” I breathe as I lean in a little closer. “You gotta stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Sure,” I sneer. “You have any clue how distracting you are? It's driving me insane.” She nibbles at her plump bottom lip, biting back a smile. “Wait… You do? Don't you?”

“M’sorry,” she sighs in a pouty voice, not a single ounce of actually “sorry” in her sorry.

“After we win, you're comin’ with me.”

“To do what?” She giggles as she steps a little closer.

“Like you don't know,” I chuckle breathily. “Someone needs to teach you a lesson. Nobody teases me. And, I don't fuckin’ lose.” She cocks an eyebrow at me, challenging me with her gaze.

“Looks like you're about to lose, Rafey,” she taunts as she nods to the table.

“Easy, princess-”

“Hey, uhh, we good?” Topper cuts in.

“Yeah, Top. We're great,” I smile, never losing eye contact with her. My frat brother walks by again, surveying the scene, giving me the perfect opportunity to stake my claim. I clear the void, pulling her lips to mine. Fuck, she’s sweet. She grabs my shirt, twisting it in her fingers, pulling me even closer. Her boobs press against my chest; the feeling alone making me want to end it all. “You're mine when we're done. Clear?” I mumble against her lips, making her smile again.

“You're cocky,” she breathes.

“M’cocky now. Huh?”

“I love it,” she sighs.

“Mmm… mine. You're mine. A’ight?”

I guide her back to her side before walking away. Rubbing a shit-eating grin off my lips, I do my best to get my head back in the game. I'm having her regardless… This is just foreplay for me.

She smiles at me from across the table, gloss-lipped and stunning, her hair freshly tossed to the side. Her cheeks blush as I give her a little wink. And, just like that, the tables have turned. She wets her ball, flicking off the water, aiming as her tongue pokes out in concentration. She hurls it too far, hitting me in the thigh, making me wince in fake pain. She rolls her eyes and scoffs, her already pink cheeks reddening further.

I lift my finger, tapping on my temple. “I'm in your head,” I mouth through a smile. She shakes her head ‘no’, crossing her arms across her chest. Fuck me. Her tits practically spill out of the top of her little party dress, an obscene amount of cleavage, derailing my focus yet again. Her eyes fall, trailing my fixation, landing on her breasts as well, making me swallow hard. Her lashes flick to mine, fully aware of just what part of her was truly that distracting that I had to pause the game.

“Am I’m in yours, Rafey?” She mouths in retort as she drops her hands, resting her palms against the table, leaning in as her eyes stay zeroed in on mine.

“Holy shit,” Topper mumbles, falling victim to her tactics as well.

“For fuck sake, Top-”

“Can you focus,” he finishes my sentence; roles reversed. “Yeah… Yeah. Have fun with her, buddy.”

++++++++

“Goddamn, baby,” I groan as I cup as much of her tits as I can get in my hands, squeezing them tight. She reaches down, looping her tiny fingers around the string of her thong. “Stop,” I smile. This round’s about me. It ain't about you. You lost. I won… I get my prize, and I'm fuckin’ your tits.”

“Rafe-”

“Shut up,” I chuckle teasingly. “Shut. Up. This is a lesson. A’ight. M’teaching you a lesson. And, later, when I got you cryin’ and whinin’ for my dick,” I groan as I draw my boxer off my body. “I might let you bounce on it.”

“Rafey, please…”

“Nobody teases me, y/n,” I smile as I tuck some hair behind her ear.

My lips lock with hers as I lift her off her feet and into my arms, gripping her round ass in my hands, feeling as she grinds her needy pussy into me. The soaked material wets my warm skin, teasing me further.

Tits now… Pussy later.

🩷 Y/N’s POV:

Rafe tosses you down onto the bed, boobs bouncing on impact as he licks his lips hungrily. “M’so wet, Rafe. Please,” you whimper as your fingers wrap around his rock-hard cock, tracing all nine inches to his fat head. His ab muscles flex tightly as you run your finger across his tip, collecting his precum before bringing it between your lips.

“Trust me,” Rafe smiles as he reaches over to his nightstand, snagging out some lube, “I felt that pussy, princess. You're a mess. Shame you were such a cock-tease. Hmm? Teasin’ me with these-” Rafe’s massive hands palm your tits, pushing them together before gliding his ruddy cock in between. His eyes roll back in his skull, practically growling at the sensation. Rafe sits down on top of you, crushing you with his weight. He lets out a sigh of relief, like that's all he wanted.

His parted lips curl into a smile as he watches you crank your neck, tongue snaking around his swollen cock head. “Fuck. You’re a little slut, f’me. Aren't you?”

“I am, Rafe. Holy shit,” you whimper as you cup your tits, pressing them together for him.

"You look so good... Oh my god," he moans as he draws out, quickly pushing himself back in. "Perfect tits. Fuck, baby girl," Rafe hails as he starts to roll his body; his aching tip popping through your cleavage each time, glistening with lube.

"You're so big," you whisper, making a smirk play on his parted lips. "I could make you feel so good.”

“Got no doubt about that,” he rasps, thrusting into you at the perfect pace, making you envious of your own boobs.

"Fuck, Rafe!" You whine as he gives you a show, his long cock gliding in and out again and again, making your cunt throb.

"You're gonna bounce on me later. Yeah? Grind you pretty little pussy while I suck on your tits." He slaps your breast, making you squeal.

"Y-Yes, daddy," you stammer. He smacks your other tit making your pussy clench around nothing as he continues to stroke.

Your thighs squeeze together, the visual stimulation enough to get you there as you watch Rafe use your body like a toy. You feel heat growing in your stomach as your thighs begin to shake.

He snatches your wrist, forcing it lower. “Play with your pussy, baby. I know you wanna.” You drop your legs to the mattress, splaying your thighs as you push your panties to the side; fingers rolling on your clit, making you moan. You grip your tit with one hand, Rafe clutching the other as he picks up speed, your body embarrassingly close to cumming already.

Rafe’s other hand comes around your throat squeezing tightly, making your eyes widen, sending you over the edge. "Oh fuck, Rafe!" You cry out, pussy fluttering wildly.

"Jesus.” He lets out a wicked laugh. “All from watching me. Huh? That’s some whore shit right there. Fuck. You look even prettier when you cum," he moans as his thrusts get messy. “Open your mouth, slut. Swallow it all. Yeah?”

You flatten your tongue as Rafe rises up on his knees, towering over you as he fists his cock fast. His eyes strain to stay open as he cums on your breasts and neck, your chin, up to your open mouth. You swallow what you're given, running your middle finger along your chin as Rafe tries to steady his breathing, sucking your digit clean, making him smile.

He grips your boobs in his large hands again, swirling his tongue on your soft skin, circling your nipples, licking a line through your cleavage, cleaning his mess before spitting it in your mouth. You swallow again as his beautiful blue eyes stare into yours. Rafe kisses you deeply, tongue reeling; the sweetness of his lips paired with his salty cum.

Rafe rolls you on top of him, rough fingers trailing down your spine as a smile stretches on his lips. “Lesson learned, princess?” He mumbles between kisses.

“No…” You sigh before sucking off his bottom lip nice and slow.

“No?” He chuckles.

“Guess you're just gonna have to try again.”

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unluckilyimnot · 2 months

Note

HIIYA!!!! I hope ur good :D u think u could write abt a bf!Sae who lives in the same house with y/n?They have a cat but Sae and the cat don’t get along too well, like, they only stay in the same place cuz y/n.

sae hates your cat

sae x reader

fluff

m.list || rules

note : sae is a silly goofy man fight me, he argues for nothing and that's such a good idea, i loved it too much. bonus point bc i'm allergic to cat and i make this everyones problem (I love cats)

Requests are open ! <3

Sae never thought he would say that once beside soccer, but he has one enemy, a fatal one, that keeps winning over him, that he never seems to beat : your cat.

One day, you bring home this filthy little hairball and since he was running this place as if he owned it. He doesn’t, nor did Sae ; let’s be honest, that was the only reason he still accepted it.

Sae isn’t a pet lover from the beginning, but he promised he will try because he loves you dearly and he never thought it would be that hard to get along with.. that.

It is.

Everyday is a battle and he knows he can’t tell anything about your cat because you’ll side with the animal instead of him. It drives him crazy.

He can’t move like he wants in his bed, half of the couch is always taken and if not, worse ! He’s laying in your lap and Sae can’t approach you without being hissed at. If you ever feel like teasing him over pouting, take your cat in your lap : great success guaranteed. But be prepared for him to give you some damn silent treatment in return (he’s not as good at it as he used to be, he’s too down bad for you.)

He knows the hate is not one sided, the cat never comes even near him – he doesn’t remember touching him in fact. For the better if you ask him, but Sae still can’t understand why you adopted that damn cat since you’re god damn it allergic ? He hates this creature even more for making you cry all the time.

“Stop staring at him Sae, he didn’t do anything,” you try to ease the situation, very well aware that Sae hates your cat.

“He exists, that's enough for me.” you sigh at his words, not knowing what to do to make it work. You sneeze, four times in a row before cursing underneath your breath. “Yeah, I hate him for that too.” He added while handing you a handkerchief.

“That’s nothing.” you whined but still smiled at him as a thank you.

Sometimes he throws some threat, hoping you won’t hear a thing or when you’re not even home. He still takes care of him when he has to, but he’s never happy about it. “I’m only doing that because she asks me to.” He warns every time he does something for him.

There are still times when he wins a little, which is the night when you can’t breathe and your eyes are burning so much you can’t stop rubbing it he has to force you not to. That’s kinda your ‘take care of yourself’ nights and Sae loves those with all his heart because HE can take care of you. Yes, he will change the bed’s sheets for you while you take a shower. Yes, he will prepare a warm towel for you to put on your eyes. Yes, he will put physiological saline in your eyes for you.

His favorite night, like I said. Also those when the cat is banned from the room, and Sae takes a pervert pleasure in closing the door in front of him.

“Go kick the bucket and leave me alone.” he whispers, begging for you to be already half asleep.

“Sae !”

I hope you liked it ♡

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #blue lock hc #blue lock headcanons #bllk x reader #sae #sae itoshi #sae fluff #sae x reader #sae hc

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radiant-reid · 1 year

Note

Reader drunk calling Spencer to pick her up from girls night and the entire way home she keeps hitting on him and trying to seduce him but they just started sleeping together snd he’s a consent king so he keeps saying no even tho it’s getting harder and harder to resist and eventually she starts crying and he’s like “what’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?” And she is sobbing going “my boyfriend my super sexy amazing boyfriend doesn’t think I’m hot” and he’s frantically shaking his head while blushing bc she called him sexy and she’s like “if I’m so hot why won’t you sleep with me? Do you think sex with me is bad?”

All you want to do is talk to Spencer. Honestly, it's slightly pathetic, and you'd be calling Penelope, JJ, or Emily whipped if all they could talk about was their boyfriend.

Still, Spencer isn't like anyone else.

He picks up within two rings. "Y/n, what's wrong?" The panic in his voice is typical for someone with your jobs.

"Nothing, nothing." You assure his worries, running a hand through your hair. "Sorry for calling so late."

"Or early." He laughs slightly. "Aren't you meant to be out with the girls?"

"Yeah, we went back to Penelope's." You inform him, shuffling on your feet on the balcony. The cool DC air feels good on your warm skin. "I just- I wanted to talk to you."

You can almost hear the smile on his face. "Do you want me to come get you?" He offers.

"I was about to call an Uber home." You inform him.

Spencer's already climbing out of bed, grabbing his glasses from the side table since he's not going to waste time putting contacts in. "No, don't." He tells you while he rustles around, jumping into some pants so he doesn't end up in front of his colleagues in his underwear before grabbing his keys and wallet and slipping into some shoes. "I'm coming to get you. You can't get an Uber this late."

He knows you can kick ass, and you know he knows, but you appreciate how much he cares and wants to keep you out of potential danger. "Okay, thank you." You say before hanging up.

Thanks to the clear roads, he's there in seven minutes, and you quickly say goodbye to the girls once you see his car on the street, not worried about their teasing.

Spencer gets out of the car, waving up at Penelope's window and helping you into the car. It's good that he does because you're so drunk you can't walk properly. "You okay?" He asks. "I brought water." He nods to the bottle in the cupholder.

"You're the best." You tell him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "Love it when you wear your glasses, you know?" You ask rhetorically, sliding your hand onto his knee. "You look so hot."

He shakes his head. "Y/n." He warns.

"What, baby?" You ask, experimentally moving your hand further up. "You deserve a proper thank you for being so valiant."

"Words are enough." He assures you, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as he moves your hand up to kiss the back of it. "Want me to drive you to your place?" He offers, although he's taking the correct turns to get to his place.

You shake your head quickly. "No, please, I want to sleep with you." You say, hoping he catches the double entendre.

He just nods, driving back to his place while you sit there in silence.

You're determined to get what you want, and your efforts don't stop when you get into his apartment. He grants you a quick kiss that you quickly deepen.

Spencer pulls away. "You taste like rum... white rum."

"Mm, good spot." You compliment him, running your hand down his chest. Spencer pulls back when you go to kiss him again. "What? You drink mojitos."

"Baby, you're drunk." He reminds you.

"And hot for you." You add, pressing your hips to his. He's not hard at all, but you're not going to let your momentary disappointment take over. "Come on, Spence. I want to have sex."

He cups your cheeks, shaking his head. "I can't do it." He tells you.

You bite down on your lip to avoid crying, but you desperately want to be out of his gaze. Never has anyone rejected you, let alone Spencer, who has always been eager to have sex with you. "I need to use to bathroom."

"I'll bring you some water." He tells you, moving away and letting you scurry away.

You cry as soon as you're behind closed doors. It would be stupid, but you've had enough to drink that the smallest thing feels like it could set you over the edge, and Spencer rejecting you is the worst ending to your night.

After a few minutes, Spencer taps on the door. "Hey, are you alright?"

"Mhm." You answer through sobs.

"Y/n, please, I can hear you crying." He begs, sounding sad himself, and you hate that you made him feel like that. "Talk to me. I can help."

Quickly, you feel angry, throwing the door open and meeting your boyfriend's soft eyes. "You can help? How could you possibly fix that you're not attracted to me?" You ask him, furious tears still spilling out of your eyes.

Somehow, his face softens more. "What, baby? What made you think that?" He asks.

"You can't have sex with me because you don't think I'm hot anymore." You complain. "And you're so hot, and now that you're not attracted to me, this will never work."

Spencer pulls you over to sit on the edge of the bed before sitting next to you. "I think you're the most gorgeous person in the world." He assures you. "You're beautiful, pretty, sexy, cute, and, of course, hot. I said I can't have sex with you because I can't, not because you've done anything wrong or because I don't find you incredibly attractive." He reminds you. "You've had enough white rum that I can taste it, and it wouldn't be right for me to have sex with you because you can't consent."

"Oh." You say, blush filling your cheek at being so wrong.

"Hey, hey, don't do that." He says softly. "Don't be embarrassed."

You sigh. "You're so sweet, you know?"

"It's the bare minimum." He reminds you. "Do you want to sleep?"

You nod. "Please... and there will be sex in the future when I'm sober."

He laughs at you, kissing you on the lips. "I'll eagerly await it."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds

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heavyhitterheaux · 5 months

Text

Call Her Daddy (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: 🤭🤭🤭

Synopsis: Jack goes on the Call Her Daddy podcast and of course has to talk about his wife

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

First Lady of Private Garden Masterlist

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Jack, it's about damn time you showed up for an episode of my podcast.” Alex said after the both of them sat down and got comfortable where the podcast recording would take place.

“What can I say? I'm a busy man. And it's good to be here.”

“Definitely busy seeing as you just recently put a total of three babies in your wife, but we'll get to that later. We're focusing on you, first.”

“Look, I can't help it if my wife is fine as hell. Might as well go hard or go home.” He replied while shrugging and of course Alex laughed.

“Don't worry, you'll get to talk about how much you love your wife in due time because we know that’s a running theme with you. But first, I want to know more about Jack Harlow. Did you always want to be a rapper? And where did that drive come from?”

“Always wanted to be one and I remember selling my CD's back in middle school. My mom was a heavy influence on that and she would freestyle with me in the car when she would drive me to like soccer practice and different things like that.”

“That's so cute and adorable that your mom influenced you. Now when people think of rap, Kentucky isn't really the first place people think of.”

“Not at all and I'm from Louisville and a lot of people don't know that it is literally an entire city. When people hear Kentucky, the first thing that they think of is some back roads country ass shit when it's not.” He answered as he thought about when he first started and some people would tell him that he would never make it out Kentucky let alone Louisville.

“And did a lot of people support you? Or did they try to discourage you? How was that growing up there?”

“It was about half and half. A lot of people were confident that I was going to make something of myself, but others weren’t. But I’ve been serious about this shit from day one and it’s slowly but surely paying off. My girl wouldn’t let me quit for nothing even if sometimes I wanted to.”

“Now, what were you like in high school? Were you the popular jock, the nerd, part of the science club? Did the girls fall out over you?” Alex asked while getting comfortable in her chair and adjusting.

“I mean I always had friends and I wasn’t the one who would be stuffed into lockers or some shit. Like with certain things people knew not to mess with me. And it always seemed like girls always liked me, but when I set my eyes on one, that was it. It was a done deal. We weren’t even together yet and people knew that she was mine and they would respect it.”

“So, I want to ask you since you said that about people knowing that she was your girl and respecting it. Now we are talking about the First Lady, correct?”

“The fucking one and only. Had my eyes on her ever since I was fourteen.”

“A little birdie told me about you hiding a boy’s clothes after gym was over because he liked her and wouldn’t leave her alone? Not baby Jack getting jealous.” Alex said while laughing and Jack soon joined in along with her.

“Look, he asked for it and I didn’t have a problem with him after that. Like dude get the fuck away from my girl.”

“And what did she do when she found out?”

“She never found out until we moved to Atlanta after we graduated so she had absolutely no idea. But, she definitely got on my ass. But she’s not so innocent either, but you’ll have to ask her about that.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely the next person I need to have on here. Now what is the album that you think is your best work or the one that you are most proud of?”

“Hmm, Jackman hands down. No features, just me talking and getting my feelings out. I was able to be home in Louisville with my wife for about a year and a half and I took that time to reset and get my mind right because a lot of shit had been going on and happening around us and I felt that it was important for me to do that, but now we’re back to making the catchy shit that people can really vibe to and feel good music so I’m excited for this new era.”

“Lovin’ On Me! Now I am loving your new song and I notice that it says I don't like no whips and chains and you can’t tie me down. So no whips and chains in the Harlow household?”

“I… look I have a story about that. It’s not the fact that there’s absolutely none because at one point in time there was.”

“Damn, do I need popcorn for this because I feel like I need popcorn for this.” Alex added while busting out laughing.

“So, I tie her up, blindfold her, we got the nipple clamps, all that shit, and I handcuff myself to her to get her to stop moving and I lost the key in the process. So, she notices that I get quiet and she’s freaking out asking me what’s wrong and when I finally tell her she’s like call Urban. He’s our best friend who lived with us at the time and he has seen some wild shit and I know he’s so fucking tired of us. So with my free hand, I use my phone to call him and he comes and sees what the situation is, finds the key and leaves us there and goes to sleep because we had woken him up and he was pissed. So he just left us there until the morning.”

“I LITERALLY CANNOT! But, was it really a punishment though? Handcuffed to your wife so I can imagine a few more rounds came after that?” Alex asked while wiggling her eyebrows.

“More than a few.”

“Now talk to me about the other wild shit that he has seen.”

All Jack did was hang his head as he busted out laughing.

“I… I don’t even know where to fucking start. Urb is always getting pulled into the middle of shit that he absolutely had nothing to do with.”

“That’s what best friends are for. Now, how do you feel about choking?”

“Anything she wants, I will do it. Nothing is off limits for her. I admit that it’s not my favorite thing in the world, but if it’s going to make her orgasm faster, I’m all for it. She definitely comes first. Pun intended.”

“Oh, so you’re all about putting her needs first in the bedroom?”

“And in life, that’s my baby and her needs and wants are always going to be met. Been doing that since we were fifteen when we were officially together.”

“Now you said nothing is off limits when it comes to her, so she’s just like ‘babe, let me peg you’.”

“No, absolutely not, no one is sticking anything up my ass. I love my wife through and through, but no. That’s a little too much for me. Come on Alex, I’m not that adventurous, my lyrics literally say ‘I’m vanilla baby’.”

“Well, I might have put an idea in your head that you’ll want to try with her later.”

“Nope.”

“Favorite sex position?”

“Do you…. Do you not know what they call me?” Jack curiously asked her in disbelief.

“No, what do they call you?”

“Missionary Jack.”

“Please shut up because literally no one calls you that, you call yourself that.”

“I swear that’s what they call me!”

“And who gave you that nickname?”

“If it was someone other than my wife then that’s a problem. She’s called me that since forever.”

“What do you like about it?”

“It’s underrated on so many levels. I swear my triplets were conceived in missionary. Because here’s my thing, I’m face to face with her, at one point her ankles are going to be behind her head or on top of my shoulders and I’m going the fuck in.”

“Well damn, what’s her favorite position? I’m going to get her on here, but I want to hear it from you.”

“She likes to think that she’s in control, so she likes to ride me. But she knows who runs this shit. My kids aren’t the only ones who call me daddy.” Jack responded while smirking and all Alex did was playfully roll her eyes.

“Your wife is going to get you for that one and I’m going to let her have at it.”

“Yeah that’s how it all starts and it’ll end with me fucking her brains out like it always does.”

“You’re going to be in for it when this is over. Hmm, kinks?”

“I love praising her because I know it makes her reach her peak faster, but definitely a spit kink.”

“OH! TELL ME MORE! I am intrigued!”

“Alex, you are funny as shit.”

“I’m serious! Out with it.”

“Spitting in her mouth and watching her swallow it.”

“Are you sure you’re as vanilla as you say you are, because? Yeah I’m going to need wifey here to get her perspective. Do you think she’s ever faked an orgasm while you were in her? Would you be able to tell?”

“I know her body inside and out and she better not do that shit and have me find out about it. But, I don’t think she has.”

“Hand jobs, blow jobs?”

“Fuck yeah, I love me a good hand job or blow job.”

“Craziest place that you’ve gotten one or had sex period?”

“On a plane to Australia. We thought everyone was asleep, but of course everyone except Urb. This was what I meant when he is always getting caught in the middle of some shit that has nothing to do with him. It was difficult because I’m so tall, but we made it work.”

“What would an erotic vacation look like for you?”

“Definitely fucking her brains out non stop in some tropical ass location. We’re not leaving our room for the entire time that we’re there.”

“Ooohh, now if you could have sex in any location in the world, where would it be?”

“Hmm, I never really thought about it. Maybe some exotic ass shit like behind a waterfall or something. But, I was also thinking the white house lawn because I don’t mind an audience.”

“NOT THE WHITE HOUSE LAWN!”

“YOU ASKED!”

“Have you ever had or thought about trying tantric sex?”

“I’ve never really thought much about it, but I would have to do my research. If wifey wants it, I’m down.”

“She really does wear the pants in your relationship, huh?”

“Alex, like I said before, you’re funny and no she doesn’t.”

“I literally do not think that anyone will agree with you. If I were to do a poll right now, everyone will probably say that she does.”

“I let her think that she does.”

“Mmm hmm, sure. Now what is your dirtiest sexual fantasy?”

“I don’t even know since I’m pretty adventurous when it comes to it and not many things are off limits.”

You had just gotten to the hotel that Jack was staying at while he was filming for his episode of the Call Her Daddy podcast when you decided to surprise him. He had been going non stop since the release of his new single and getting ready to go on The Kentucky Tour.

Of course Urban was with him and sent you a text saying that he was almost done and you promptly took a quick shower and slipped on one of Jack’s favorite lingerie sets which happened to be black and purple. You threw on your black silk robe in case you got cold and simply laid out on the bed and played on your phone waiting for your husband.

You had fallen asleep waiting for him when you felt him reach down and place a kiss on your lips and your eyes fluttered open.

“What are you doing here?” He playfully asked as he was now kneeling on the bed in front of you and playing with the ties on your black silk robe.

“I wanted to surprise my husband since he’s been working so hard and I figured you would want a little time to have me to yourself.” You answered while motioning for him to lean down so that you could kiss him which he quickly did.

As Jack deepened the kiss, he took the opportunity to undo your robe and took in the sight of you in front of him.

“A sight that I can never get tired of seeing.”

He started to kiss down your neck when you lightly pushed him away from you and flipped the two of you over as you went to undo his pants and slide down his boxer briefs.

“Last night on the phone with you wasn’t enough and I decided that I wanted you in my mouth as soon as possible.”

The night before, Jack was complaining about missing you so just like you had done many times before, you gave him a show which ended up with him cumming multiple times as he watched you.

Jack had now tossed his shirt to the other side of the room and you had gotten his boxer briefs completely off before taking him in your mouth painfully slow making him grab the back of your head and buck his hips towards you.

“Baby, do not fucking tease me right now. All I basically did was talk about how good I fuck you in that podcast and we need to get to it before I fucking bust. This shit is starting to hurt and take that lingerie off.” Jack whined as you were making yourself comfortable.

Before taking him back in your mouth, you did as you were told.

“Patience, my love. You know that I’m always going to make it worthwhile.” You answered him as you went back to pleasuring him with your mouth and your eyes began to water as you felt him reach the back of your throat.

You were taking your slow sweet time and even though Jack was getting annoyed, he was in entirely too much pleasure to say anything at the moment knowing that when he finally did cum in your mouth that it would be worth it.

“Ahh fuck. Come on baby, go a little faster than that.” Jack pleaded with you, but then you took him out of your mouth and went to the edge of the bed and laid down upside down.

“Get over here and face fuck me then.” You said while giggling and Jack wasted no time getting in front of you and sliding himself back into your mouth while throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, ohhhh shiiiiit.”

Jack had now taken a hold of both sides of your face and began moving in and out of your mouth as you reached down to play with your clit knowing that if he saw you playing with yourself that he would cum faster.

“Come on baby, open that pretty mouth of yours wider for me. You can take more of me, you’re doing such a good job.”

You did as you were told and inserted two fingers while still continuing to play with your clit with the opposite hand as you felt the spit from your mouth leaking down the sides of it.

“You playing with your pussy for me? Add another finger for daddy.”

Listening to Jack, you added another finger as he reached down to spit on your clit which made you increase the pace of your fingers.

You couldn’t help but to moan while Jack was still in your mouth and knew that you were going to reach your peak soon.

And as if right on cue, you heard Jack.

“Fuck, baby.” He tightly held onto you as you hit your peak and felt the cum shooting down your throat and out the sides of your mouth, but you continued sucking him off not showing him any mercy.

“Hold on!”

You shook your head no as you continued to move him in and out of your mouth, but finally let up when you felt another load shoot into your mouth and quickly swallowed it. Jack slightly moved away from you as you sat up and turned around to face him smirking.

“Wait until I get your ass for doing that.” Was all he said as you reached up to kiss him. You caught him off guard as you reached down and slowly began to jerk him off when he broke the kiss and looked down at you.

“Get your ass to the top of the bed and spread your legs so I have enough room.”

You moved until you reached the top as Jack hovered over you and simply looked down at you to admire you.

“What, babe?” You asked as you were now beginning to shy away from him, but all he did was lightly grab your face and kiss you.

“Nothing, it’s just my wife is so gorgeous and I’m about to have her screaming at the top of her lungs with how good I’m about to make her feel.” He answered as he began to rub small circles along your clit and reached down to kiss you while slipping his tongue in your mouth.

When you least expected it, he slowly entered you making you gasp against his lips which he quickly quieted you with another kiss as he began to move.

“Look at my pretty girl taking this dick.”

Jack then lifted your legs so that they were on the top of his shoulders and began pounding into you making you gasp as he caught you in another kiss.

“Shiiiit.” Was all you could mutter as you wrapped your arms around Jack’s neck as both of your noses were touching.

As Jack continued to keep the same pace, he kept his eyes on you and simply smirked.

“Open your mouth.”

You felt warm liquid slide down the back of your throat as he continued to move and place small kisses along your breasts.

On your right breast, he placed a small kiss and bit down and continued to suck on the same spot as you were letting out a series of curses and whimpers.

That was going to leave a mark, but you would deal with that later.

Jack then reached down to play with your clit and he quickly went to suck on your other breast knowing that he would have you come undone in front of him in less than a minute.

“Fuck, baby. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Jack then felt a rush of warm liquid hit the bottom part of his stomach and smirked as he reached up to kiss you.

As you were slowing down your breathing, Jack continued to rub small circles along your clit while kissing down your neck.

Once you felt that you recovered enough, you reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube that you had brought and handed it to Jack as you moved to get on all fours.

All he did was smirk at you before opening the bottle as you were making yourself comfortable in front of him.

You had only done anal a handful of times, but you found yourself wanting it more and more lately and of course, Jack wasn’t opposed.

“Baby, remember you have to relax so I can get in easier.” You heard him say as he was getting ready behind you.

“Yes, I know.” You softly answered as you felt the tip.

Jack noticed he was meeting resistance so he added more lube and had you arch your back a little bit more before trying again.

He was moving in slowly and didn’t hear anything from you which had him concerned and he simply stopped.

“Baby, you okay? You aren’t saying anything.”

“I’m fine, just keep going.”

After a few minutes, he was fully in and gave you a minute to adjust and made sure that you were okay.

“You ready for me to move?”

All you did was nod towards him as you felt him moving in and out of you.

“You’re doing so good, you’re doing so good for me baby. Arch your back a tiny bit more.”

Complying, you slowly but surely started to notice how good it felt as Jack reached down and you felt him insert what felt like a vibrator in you.

You had no idea when he had time to get it, but you weren’t in any way, shape, or form complaining.

“Babeee, oh fuck.”

“Got a new toy to use on you.”

Between the vibrator and Jack pleasuring you, you felt your legs begin to get weak and the perfect arch that you had once had was forgotten as you were trying to hold yourself up.

Jack noticed this and instead of turning the vibrator down and decreasing his pace, he did the opposite and turned it up while increasing his pace making you scream out.

“Baby…. Mmm… fuck I can’t…”

“Yes you can and you will, arch your back for me. Such a good girl.”

Jack reached down to play with your clit and your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks making you scream out as he slid out and released all over your back.

He then slid the vibrator out of you as you collapsed on your stomach and reached down to kiss your neck.

“You okay, down there? You were so good for me.”

You let out something of a groan letting him know that you were okay and he instantly laughed while sliding off the bed and pulling you by the ankles so that you were at the end of the bed and Jack was on his knees.

“Get on your knees for me because we are nowhere near done.”

This made you do a double take as you looked back at him in confusion.

“You didn’t think you were about to come all this way and I wasn’t going to taste my wife’s pussy, did you? Spread them damn legs.”

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#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow smut #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow fluff #first lady of pg

823 notes · View notes

norrisleclercf1 · 8 months

Note

A request for our boy - can you do something with Elijah starting to get older and goes partying w his friends and makes some bad decisions while drunk. Id imagine Charles to be the most understanding and even tho lando is usually more shy he would be furious because he always says he doesn’t drink and it would catch Elijah reader and Charles off

Party Boy

Words: 1.4K

Warnings: Attempted drunk driving, being drunk, alcohol, blood, hurting friends

Rating: PG-13

Our Boy Masterlist

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!" Cheers erupt as Elijah drinks from the funnel. Sneaking out was the best idea ever. At 19, Elijah was in F2, taking the sport by storm, clearly inheriting all 3 of his father's talents for driving. "Hell yeah!" Elijah yells as Diego, Rafael, and Beau all cheer him on.

"Easy there, you're drinking too much." Elijah shakes off Erza, his Uncle Max's son, older than them all at 24. "Leave me alone. I'm having fun! That's what you all wanted me to do, right? Have fun!" Elijah staggers off, bumping into people as he heads for the kitchen. Beau follows after, telling Ezra he'll watch him. "Yeah, right, you'll egg him on." Waving him off, Beau joins his best friend in the kitchen.

"Elijah, slow down." Beau pleads, seeing Elijah take shot after shot. "Beau, I'm 19 and smoking hot. I don't need to slow down." Elijah laughs, taking another shot. "Maybe this was a bad idea," Rafael whispers to the quiet one of the group. "It's not a bad idea, Raf. I needed to let loose, and I am. Being the oldest, always watch over Cecile. Helping Ma with Callum, I deserve this one night." Elijah garbles, words starting to slur.

"Okay, let's go." Ezra storms into the kitchen, but Elijah throws him off. "Fuck off, Ez." Ezra stumbles, throwing his hands out. The sound of glass breaks, smears of red marking the counter. "Ezra!" Diego moves, grabbing a towel and putting pressure on his hand. "I'm fine, Diego. Check on him." Nodding, Diego spins as Beau and Rafael try to calm him down.

"Oh, shove off!" Grabbing a beer bottle, Elijah throws it, another thing breaking. "God damn, he's drunk drunk." Beau curses, trying to control Elijah. Able to get free, Elijah stumbles out of the kitchen, grabbing his keys. "No, Elijah!" Ezra scrambles up as they rush after him. "You can't drive. You're drunk." Trying to reason with him, Elijah shrugs them off.

"Go away, I can drive. If I can drive dangerous cars for a living, I think I can handle this." Moving quick, Diego snatches the keys, Elijah stumbling but falls to the ground. "Okay, who do we call? We can't call our parents they'll kill us. And we can't drive; we've all been drinking." Diego whines, not liking this. "Hang on." Ezra keeps the towel tight around his hand, digging through Elijah's pockets.

Grabbing his phone, he quickly gets in, dialing a number. "Who are you calling?" Beau asks, making sure Elijah doesn't vomit. "His father."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ugh," Sitting up, Elijah presses the heel of his hands into his eyes. A jackhammer was going off in his head, and he was trying to remember how he got this way. "You're awake." Elijah makes a sound of disimprovement, not wanting to talk.

"Father, please, my head hurts, and I," Elijah stops, looking over and seeing Nico leaning on his counter holding two mugs. "Oh god," Nico says nothing as he walks around, placing the mug in front of his son. "Ezra and your friends brought you over. They're currently sleeping it off." Elijah nods, everything that happened a few hours ago blank.

"You should know I called Y/n, Charles, and Lando." Elijah whimpers, feeling sick, but Nico seems not to care. "What you've done and could've done will have serious consequences. You're lucky your friend Diego took your car keys from you." The pit in his stomach grows bigger hearing those words. "I," Taking a deep breath, he blows it out. "I almost drove drunk?" Turning to look at his father.

"Yes." Nico stares at Elijah, wanting to say more, but this isn't his place. "You're not going to yell at me?" Nico places his mug down, rubbing his forehead. "No, that is up to your parents. Your fathers." Elijah looks away, hating that Nico still doesn't see himself as his father. "You're one of my fathers." Nico laughs, standing as he starts to pace.

"Elijah, I'm not your father the way they are. We had this conversation 3 years ago, not again." A piercing ring has Elijah whimpering, covering his head as Nico goes to answer the door. "Where is he?" Rushing past Nico, you spot your eldest son on the couch, cradling his head. "Elijah." Sitting down next to him, you rub his back. "Mama, I feel sick." Charles sighs, adjusting Callum on his hip, the baby fast asleep.

"It's going to be okay. You're lucky Nico came a picked you up." Charles hated that Elijah got this drunk. It happened to everyone, but the fact his son went so far as to almost drive drunk made him a little sick. "Thank you for doing that." You nod at Nico, who says nothing, glancing at Lando. "It's going to be okay? What the fuck is that, Charles?" Lando sneers, furious beyond means.

"What? Lando, why are you so angry?" You whisper yell, Charles bouncing Callum to keep him asleep. "Angry? I'm fucking furious. I could kill you myself, Elijah." Flinching at his Dad's words Elijah hides his head farther in his knees. "Lando, don't speak to him like that." Charles scolds, but Lando pays him no mind. "Do you understand what you've done tonight?" Not receiving an answer, Lando throws his hands up.

"You shoved Ezra, cutting his hand on the glass. You then proceeded to try to DRIVE DRUNK!" Lando roars. Callum's little body jolts as little whimpers turn into loud cries. "Dammit. I'm sorry, little mouse." Lando whispers, rubbing Callum's back. "Lando, you don't need to yell at our boy like this. He made a mistake." Elijah refuses to look up; he wants nothing more than to cry.

"A mistake? Y/n, he was going to drive drunk. He could've killed someone." Elijah peers up, seeing how furious his Dad is. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Dad." Lando turns, his heart aching, noticing the redness of his boy's eyes. "Elijah, I can't understand why you would try to do this. Why would you drink?" Charles moves, giving Callum to you as he takes your place, comforting his son. "Lando, we all drink and get drunk. It's part of growing up." Charles tries to reason with his husband. "I don't." "Don't what Land?" Callum's little cries die down, nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

"Drink. I don't drink. It's bad for you. It makes people do terrible things. So I don't drink." Elijah giggles, unable to help himself. "Dad, I've seen you drink before. Uncle Carlos and Max always bring your favorite beers for you." Elijah nods, leaning into Charles, who plays with his hair. "Virgin." "What?" Unable to stop your laugh. "They're virgin, nonalcoholic. For this very reason, they bring them to me because they know I don't keep beer at home." Lando opens his arms, Callum being passed to him now.

"Elijah, I don't want to ever see you drink again. Do you understand me? Not in my house. If you can't control yourself, you can't drink in my home. Not with Cecile and Callum living there." Charles studies Lando, knowing why he stopped drinking and looks away. He still regrets that night. "Yes, sir, I'm sorry." Lando steps forward and crouches down.

"Elijah, I love you so much. You....you took away a piece of my trust again. So, your punishment. You're not allowed to drive in the F2 Championship race." Bolting up, Elijah blinks away, the room spinning. "What, NO! Dad, come on, I have a chance of winning it all! A chance to get an F1 seat and drive next to you and Pa. Don't do this." Elijah pleads. You should learn the responsibilities of what it means to drive, Elijah. I won't allow you behind the wheel of any car until you understand what you could've done tonight." Elijah drops back to the couch, now really wanting to cry.

"Elijah, you could've died or killed someone. This might seem harsh now, but you'll understand when you have children. Now let's go home." Elijah nods, lumbering out of the apartment not even saying goodbye to Nico. Lando stops, the last one to leave, as he stares at Nico. "He might have your blood, but he's my son. I only agreed to him having a relationship with you to save my marriage and family. But don't think I'll ever forgive you for what you did. But, thank you." Lando walks out, Nico slamming the door.

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sebscore · 1 year

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Hello! Same anon from the charles x sister ask (not the dentist one). I love the recent fic! I cant think of anything specific that I would love to read, maybe just some cute sibling fluff between charles and reader, if not all the siblings? Thanks, you’re doing great!!

A SILVERSTONE WEEKEND | LECLERC BROTHERS

pairings: charles leclerc x sister!reader / lorenzo leclerc x sister!reader / arthur leclerc x sister!reader / pierre gasly x leclerc!reader / ollie bearman x leclerc!reader / isa hernáez x leclerc!reader

warnings: reader is a teenager. mention of flying. swearing.

author's note: thanks for the leclerc!sister resurrection on my blog! I hope you enjoy this fic and let me know what you think of it!

• • • • • • •

Silverstone was the first race of the new racing season the youngest Leclerc sibling attended. Her summer break had just started and a small trip to England seemed the right way to celebrate the end of the school year.

Since her brothers were already in England, she had to travel on her own as her mother had to stay in Monaco for work. It had been an anxious experience, but Lorenzo would pick her up at the airport and right away they would drive to the circuit to watch Arthur's sprint race and Charles' qualifying.

''Did they take care of you on the plane?'' The eldest brother hadn't been too keen on his little sister traveling alone without any kind of chaperone to accompany her.

Y/N nodded her head, handing her suitcase to her brother. ''Yeah, they were very nice to me,'' she eased his worries, ''but can you tell Charles that I'm fine with flying coach? I was the only person sitting in first class, it was embarrassing sitting there all alone.'' She was grateful her brother had gotten her a great seat on the plane, but she found all the luxuries a bit unnecessary.

Lorenzo laughed at words, imagining his sister sitting all alone while stewardesses attend to her every need. ''He wanted to be sure you had people there to help you in case you needed it,'' his hand moved to hold his sister's, ''by the way, at first he wanted to put you on a private plane, so be grateful you got to fly commercial.''

They made their way out of the airport and into his car, on their way to Silverstone. It would take them about an hour to get there, maybe with some extra traffic. ''How did Arthur's qualifying go yesterday? I didn't check it.'' She asked him, after sending their mother a message that she had arrived safely.

''P2, so today he starts P11 and tomorrow he's on the front row.'' Lorenzo answered her, explaining Arthur's starting positions. ''That's great.''

''Have you eaten anything?''

Y/N shook her head. ''No, I woke up too late and didn't have time to eat breakfast, and I didn't eat anything on the plane, because I was scared everything would, uh, come back up again.''

''You still get sick on planes? How many times have you flown now.'' Lorenzo chuckled, surprised his sister still got motion sickness while on planes.

She shrugged her shoulders. ''It's not like I have control over it, Enzo.''

''We'll eat at the track then, they have a lot of good stuff there.''

Eventually, they arrived at the circuit and walked to the Ferrari hospitality. It was Y/N's first time at the British Grand Prix, so she attentively observed the F1 paddock. The oldest and youngest sibling ran into an old family friend, Pierre Gasly. ''Enzo and Little Leclerc.'' He greeted them, hugging Lorenzo and giving Y/N a peck on the cheek.

''It's been a while since I last saw you, Y/N!'' Pierre said, not even being able to recall when he last saw the young girl. ''I know, it's good to see you.''

She was quite close with the Frenchman as their families were. They had been on vacations together and of course she would see him when she came to support Charles. Her brother and the Alpha Tauri driver even used to be in charge of babysitting her when she was still a toddler, although that didn't always go as planned.

''She finally has a break from school.'' Lorenzo explained to him, his arm going around her shoulder. Pierre nodded, forgetting sometimes that the girl still went to school.

He ruffled her hair. ''I have to go, but root for me, alright? I'm still your favorite driver, I hope?'' Pierre joked, referring to the time Y/N had teased Charles by saying that Pierre was her favorite Formula 1 driver.

''Yeah, of course,'' she jokingly rolled her eyes, ''bye, Pierre!'' They bid him goodbye and wished him luck in the qualifying later.

After a few more minutes of walking, they made it to the Ferrari hospitality where they could already see Arthur, Joris, Andrea and Charles waiting for them at one of the tables. As soon as the latter saw his younger sister, he stood up and embraced her in a hug. ''You're finally here.'' Charles sighed.

She smiled up at him and walked around the table greeting everyone else. ''I for sure thought you would step on the wrong plane and get lost.'' Arthur teased her, ruffling her hair like Pierre did earlier.

Y/N took the seat in-between Charles and Arthur, wanting to sit near her brothers as the new environment and people made her a bit uneasy. ''Yeah, you wish I got lost.''

Lorenzo offered to get himself and his sister some food, to which she protested saying that she should at least help him with it. ''No, no! You catch up with everyone, it's no big deal.'' She hesitated, but ultimately gave up and let him go alone.

''Maman send us your grades, they were really good!'' Charles spoke up, the picture of her school results popping into his mind. Y/N nodded, proud of herself for the great results. ''Thank you.''

''She send them to everyone in her contact book.'' Arthur commented, getting a laugh out of everyone. ''I even got a message saying how you had the best results in your class.'' Andrea added, the youngest Leclerc's grades had been the topic of the week.

Charles sat up straight, suddenly remembering something. ''Oh, yeah! We got you something, to congratulate you!'' He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a crumpled white envelope.

He handed it over to his sister, letting his arm hang around the back of her chair. ''It's from your lovely brothers.'' The grins on Arthur and Charles' faces gave her some trust issues about this ''gift''.

''If it's another signed picture of Arthur, I don't want it.'' She pretended to hand the envelope over again. The brothers laughed but shook their heads, that joke had become outdated after the countless times the youngest brother had pulled it. ''It's not that! It's actually something serious this time.'' Arthur assured her, coming across as genuine.

Y/N hesitantly opened the envelope, revealing multiple gift cards for several luxury fashion brands like Chanel, Dior and Versace. She observed the cards with wide eyes, in disbelief her brothers would actually get her a useful gift.

''Oh, thank you so much!'' Her arms first went around Charles, giving him a kiss on the cheek and afterwards doing the same with Arthur.

Bright smiles appeared on the brother's faces, delighted that their baby sister liked their gift. ''You can go shopping with Maman or Charlotte when you're back home.'' Charles suggested. ''Or Carla?'' Arthur added, including his girlfriend.

Lorenzo made it back to their table, holding a plate of pasta for the young girl. ''Oh, you already got your gift! You like it, Chérie?'' It had been a last-minute kind of situation to get her the cards, having to wait whether her grades were good or not.

''Yeah, thank you so much, Enzo!'' Just like before with Charles and Arthur, she gave her oldest brother a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

''Eat up now!''

''Arthur Leclerc crossed the line to take the win!''

Y/N proudly watched her brother take the checkered flag, already making her way to the barricades with her siblings to congratulate him on the victory. Much to her surprise, the first person Arthur ran up to was his sister instead of his engineer or other two brothers.

Normally she would push his sweaty form away, but this time she reciprocated the firm grip he had on her. ''You looked so cool, Thur! It was awesome!'' She practically yelled, not sure how much he could actually hear of it.

Arthur was semi-relieved he had his helmet on, knowing his sister would have teased him for a long time if she had seen the big smile that appeared on his face. He felt a hint of pride in himself as it was the first time Arthur was called ''cool'' by his younger sibling, at least the first time he had heard the words come out of her own mouth.

''Can we get a picture with the four Leclercs?'' One of the photographers asked them, holding his camera up. The three brothers glanced at their sister, knowing she isn't used to getting her picture taken like the rest of them. Y/N slowly nods her head, putting her arm around Charles' waist.

Arthur took a step back, taking off his helmet and balaclava for the photo. ''Do I look fine?'' He asked no one in particular.

''No, but it will do.'' She teased him, resulting in a slap on the arm from him.

The Formula 3 champion of the day wiped some sweat from his face before reaching his arm over his sister's shoulder. The four of them smile for the camera and wait until the photographer gives them a thumbs up.

''Arthur, you stink.'' Y/N tried to take a step away from him, but he pulled her back into him and rubbed his sweaty face all over the top of her hair. ''Ew! Get away from me!'' She pushed him off of her, her disgusted expression amusing her brothers very much.

''Leclerc, get on the podium!''

Y/N couldn't help but take out her phone and film as her brother took the top step, proudly lifting his trophy in the air and spraying the champagne around. She sent the video to their mom, who couldn't have been more delighted for her son's first F3 win of the season.

''Oh, this bitch.'' Y/N mumbled to herself as Arthur was nowhere in sight.

Not too long after his podium ceremony, she had to use the bathroom. Arthur had suggested she used the one at the Prema hospitality as it was the closest one to them. Charles had to go get ready for his own race and Lorenzo joined him, telling the two youngest to meet them at his Ferrari garage.

Arthur said he would wait for her outside the bathroom and that they would go together, since the youngest Leclerc was unfamiliar with the space and their mother would kill the three brothers if they lost her. Yet, no Arthur in sight.

Y/N stood frozen in her place, not wanting to snoop around looking for her brother and potentially walk into the wrong room.

''You okay there?'' A thick British accent interrupted her internal panic, slightly flinching at the sudden appearance of someone.

She turned around and was met with a guy she guessed was around her age, and towered a bit over her. He looked familiar, she just couldn't seem to place him. ''Uh, yeah, uh, my brother- he was supposed to wait for me here and now he's gone…'' She managed to stutter out, feeling nervous under the young man's gaze.

''Arthur was called down by one of the team members to discuss the race, that can take while actually.'' He explained his absence, pointing at one of the rooms where Arthur seemed to be.

Y/N nodded, understanding. ''Ah, wait- you know my brother?'' She frowned, she didn't even tell him it was Arthur she was looking for.

The guy nervously chuckled, realizing she had no idea who he was. ''Yeah, we're teammates! I'm Ollie, Ollie Bearman.''

''Oh my god, of course! You were on the podium as well, congrats.'' Maybe she should start to pay more attention to the jobs of her brothers. ''Sorry, it's the first time I've been to a Grand Prix this year.'' She apologized.

''It's okay, really,'' Ollie brushed it off, ''you need to get somewhere or?''

She nodded her head. ''My brother is racing and I need to get to the Ferrari garage, but I have no idea how I'm supposed to get there.''

''Well if you want I can get you to the F1 paddock? I don't have a special pass, so I can't show you where the garage is, unfortunately.'' He suggested, a soft smile settled on his face.

His offer to help her brought a red blush to her cheeks. ''That would be really sweet, thank you so much.''

''Don't worry about it.'' The walk to the entrance of the F1 paddock hadn't been too long, but long enough so the young pair could get to know each other more.

In the beginning it was a little hard to get the conversation going as this was the first time the two ever met, but soon enough Ollie was sharing stories about his young karting days and his little sister's show jumping. ''My mum didn't want her to do karting.''

Y/N chuckled. ''Mine was the same! My dad always tried to persuade her, but it never worked.'' Pascale had seen the bruises her son's would come home with, there was no way she would let her daughter have the same.

''You've never karted then?''

''I've done it a few times with my brothers, but they always make it into a competition and it's not fun that way.'' She explained, recalling the few times she did go karting and ended up almost being pushed off the track by Charles and Arthur.

''I get that- oh, here we are.'' They had arrived at the entrance, both of them a bit disappointed that they had to part ways already. ''I don't think it should be too hard to find out where the garage is once you're inside.'' He assured her.

''Thanks, Ollie,'' she smiled at him, ''I really appreciate it.''

His face mirrored hers. ''No problem, uh, I'll see you around then?'' He hoped to see more of the Leclerc girl, she was very charming and unlike Arthur had claimed to him and Jak, she seemed greatly intelligent.

''Yes, I'll see you, bye!'' Y/N offered a small wave and turned around to make her way into the paddock, hoping that one way or another she would find her brother's garage.

Ollie's assurance that it wouldn't be too hard to find was the biggest lie she had heard all day. She already doesn't have the best sense of orientation and the large amount of people roaming the paddock, weren't making it any easier.

An idea popped into her head, one that she should have come up with from the beginning.

Phoning up her brothers.

Charles wasn't going to pick up, that was a given. So then she tried Lorenzo whose phone must have either died or put on silent since it didn't even go through. The last option was Arthur and like she thought, that man was never going to answer one of her calls ever. At least they couldn't say that she didn't try.

But someone must have listened to her prayers. ''Y/N?'' A voice next to her pulled her out of her thoughts, a hand laid on her shoulder. ''You okay?''

Y/N glimpsed to her side and saw Isa, Carlos' girlfriend, looking at her with concern in her eyes. ''Oh, I- I can't find my brothers.''

Isa's concerned expression changed to a relieved one, glad nothing too bad had happened to the young girl. ''I know where they are, come on.'' The older woman held out her hand, which Y/N immediately took.

''I haven't seen you since last year! How have you been?'' Her and Isa had met on a few other occasions ever since Carlos became Charles' teammate. She was very fond of her and the Spanish woman always complimented the girl.

''School just ended, so I'm doing really well.'' She nervously grinned, flustered about holding hands with her.

Isa laughed at her words. ''Oh, yeah! Charlotte said something about it, smartest girl of the class?'' She teased, quoting the words her friend had told her.

Turns out that the Ferrari garages hadn't been too far and she had been going the entirely wrong way as she and Isa were already making their way through the halls that would lead to Charles'.

''There you are!'' Lorenzo exclaimed upon noticing his sister walking in with Isa, running up to her and taking her into his arms. ''Thank you so much!'' He told Isa, who brushed it off and bid them goodbye to go support her boyfriend.

A guilty-looking Arthur appeared from behind Lorenzo. ''I'm so sorry! I wasn't away for that long, but when I got back you were already gone.'' He apologized, genuine regret audible in his voice.

''It's fine, Ollie helped me and I ran into Isa as well.'' She wasn't too mad about it, this was one of those things that she could blackmail him with for a long time.

''Ollie? My teammate? He helped you?'' The puzzled expression on Arthur's face caused a chuckle to escape.

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, he brought me to the paddock! Very nice guy.'' The shy smile that played on her lips wasn't amusing to the youngest Leclerc brother.

''You made sure to thank him, right?'' Lorenzo didn't seem to mind that a young man her age had spent time with her, he was just relieved she had somehow found her way to them. ''Of course, Enzo.''

''What did you even talk about with him?'' Arthur continued asking, confused as to why his teammate wanted to help his sister in the first place.

His sister gave him a glare. ''One more question and I'm telling Maman you left me all alone, alright?'' The protective older brother act didn't suit Arthur at all.

''Let's focus on Charles now, okay? You two have had your moment to shine.'' Lorenzo interrupted.

''Hey! I could have been kidnapped or something!''

''Too bad you weren't- Auw! Enzo, she hit my arm!''

''You deserved it, Arthur.''

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #charles leclerc x sister!reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #arthur leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic

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ynbabe · 5 months

Text

Fake texts au- pt.12 bffs with the rookies+ Monaco for one, please!

Literally love the way anyone older than them has to be the babysitter 😭😭😭

| Masterlist |

The week you spent with Oscar and Logan was perfect in every way possible. You woke up with perhaps the worst backache you'd ever had, almost unable to breathe because Logan had shited his entire weight on you... well, that part wasn't perfect but the dinner you had afterwards made up for every ache and pain.

Oscar's mum made every favourite dish of yours and Logans, leaving a very jealous Oscar but at the end of the day, the three of you fell into the same routine you did as kids.

Sleeping late, Waking up even later and eating junk till you couldn't eat anymore (much to the dismay of their trainers) the only different thing is that all three of you couldn't bunk on the same bed. So you took turns, as suggested by Oscar's mother because your first idea was to fight for a spot on the bed.

But sadly, the week had ended and you had to leave, you hugged Logan and Oscar goodbye and made your way to Monaco, where you'd spend the rest of the summer vacation with Arthur.

He'd invited you not wanting to be alone while his brothers had their girlfriends and the last time he'd invited one of his friends from Prema, his mom had pulled him aside and given him the 'you know you can tell me anything, right, son?' he'd simply told her that he was just a friend, and anyways she should have been having the conversation with Charles anyway, with whatever he had going with Max, or with Carlos or Pierre.

You were a little nervous to go, never having been around his family before. You'd met Charles before and had become pretty good friends with him and Max but his mom? His Eldest brother? That was a whole other story.

He picked you up at the airport, drove you to the house, you offered to uber as you weren't allowed to drive in Monaco anymore (its a long story) when you walked in you hadn't realised everyone would be over and were currently on Arthur's back trying to get your phone back for the boy, which he had stolen when he saw the picture of you and Logan, oscar had sent you.

You looked around the room to find Charles, his girlfriend, his eldest brother, and their mother, staring at the two of you with wide eyes.

You jumped off your friends' back, snatching your phone in the process, "Um, hi, I'm Y/n, nice to meet you all!" You smiled hugging Charles and shaking hands with everyone else, trying to ignore your entrance.

"I'll go get the bags, yeah," he muttered as he left, his eldest brother following him.

"Maman, C'est une amie d'Arthur, celle dont je t'ai parlé," (Mom, She's one of Arthur's friends, the one I told you about), Charles said something to his mother in French, you tried to decipher with whatever Arthur had taught you over the years but they spoke too fast.

"Celui qui l'a emmené faire la fête?" (The one who took him to party?) She replied, her voice displaying disappointment, making the girl awkwardly standing next to the door frown at Charles for translation.

"Maman..." Charles began but his mother shushed him, making him look down.

Suddenly, the older woman's face and body language changed, doing a total 180, "Y/n, I've heard a lot about you, from Arthur and Charles!" She said with a smile, making the girl slightly jump in surprise, "Come on, sit, the boys will get your bags," she invited the youngest woman to sit and nodded at Charles to help get the bags, he wanted to protest but was nudged in the ribs by Alexandra, making him walk out in betrayal.

"Uh, hi guys," she said awkwardly feeling a little out of place. She felt like she was in front of a jury assessing her every move to give her life in prison and by the look on the mother's face, they were leaning in favour of the death penalty.

"Hi, Y/n," Alexandra began, quickly leaning forward as soon as her boyfriend left the house, " I've seen you around the paddock before, but mostly in Mclaren and Williams," She began, "I thought you were dating Oscar, right? Or Logan?" She asked making the girl cringe, she couldn't imagine dating one of her friends.

"Um, no, we're just friends, all four of us," she explained, this is so weird.

"And what about the hyper little British one?" Pascale asked making you laugh,

"Lando? I'm going to save his name like that from now on!" You smiled, "No, no, not at all, I think he's a little too invested in Carlos to even think about dating," you joked hoping to change the conversation, Alexandra smiled but Pascale remained unchanged.

"I've noticed, he's a sweet boy," she nodded, "Are you dating my son?" She asked, not sugarcoating anymore, making you choke on your spit, Alexandra quickly rushed to your side, patting your back.

"Thank you," you took the glass of water she offered, "I'm not dating Arthur!" You yelled as soon as you finished drinking the water, making his mother look at you suspiciously at first then nod.

"Thank you for being truthful Y/n," She began, "My kids are everything to me and they only have me to protect them. Lorenzo and Charles are old enough to understand just how cruel life can be, but Arthur's still naive," she explained slowly. It seemed like Alex had heard the same lecture too.

"Maman! Tell Charlie to stop kicking me!" Arthurs's voice rang as the trio stepped inside, proving her point.

"Maman, please, both of them won't shut up!" Lorenzo complained at his brother's antics, in true older sibling fashion.

"Only because you are stupid," Both Arthur and Charles replied at the same time making the eldest groan and place your bag down, to swat the others. Charles had your duffle and Arthur held your haversack, currently using it as a weapon to hit his brothers.

"Boys!" Their mother called out, making them all stop and pick up your bags, and carry them to some room in the house. Alexandra smiled at their antics and Pascale just shook her head.

"Sweetheart, come on, let's have some dinner, I'm sure the flight has you hungry and tired," She practically dragged you to the dinner table. You sat next to Arthur, Alex and Charles in front of you and Lorenzo and Pascle and either head of the table.

After the strange test of sorts, everything was normal, you joked along with the others, and the brothers often fought making you and Alex look at each other and laugh. You were getting along with her the most, being quite close in age and humour. However, as the night continued the jet lag became more and more of a problem.

Arthur was the first to notice your head falling as you sat, "Maman, We are going to turn in," you both began to get up but Lorenzo spoke up, making you stop.

" Où penses-tu aller?" (Where do you think you're going?) The older man asked.

"Ma chambre ?" (My room?) Arthur answered.

"Non, elle couche avec Alexandra, tu restes avec Charlie," (No, she's sleeping with Alexandra, you're staying with Charlie) He replied making both brothers angry.

They started talking over each other, yelling and shouting, you definitely made out more than one curse word. You looked over at Alex silently asking if she knew what was happening, but she just shrugged.

"You're so annoying, Lorenzo, Je jure devant Dieu que j'aurai une chambre d'hôtel !" (I swear to God I will get a hotel room!) He screamed making everyone quiet down.

"Don't yell at me, it was maman's idea," he looked at his brothers a little guiltily, making everyone look towards the eldest woman on the table.

"It's okay, Charlie, reste avec ta petite amie, Arthur soit avec ton ami." (Charlie, stay with your girlfriend, Arthur be with your friend.) Everyone seemed to be okay with the decision, though you didn't know what the decision was.

Arthur patted your shoulder, making you get up and follow him to his room. As soon as you walked in you kicked your shoes off, falling face-first on the soft king-sized bed. He followed suit, dropping himself on the opposite end of the bed, and turning his head to face you.

"I don't think your brother and mum like me very much, Princie," You spoke in a soft voice, too tired to even sit up.

"Nah, they are just over-protective," he answered, his voice nothing but a whisper.

Slowly your eyes drifted shut, letting yourself succumb to sleep.

"Bonne nuit, chérie."

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com @landosgirlxoxo @aquangxl @sachaa-ff @tyna-19 @assholeinatrenchcoat

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letstrip13 · 12 days

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can u do another “ teach me” one but its the other way around. so its reader teaching matt how to eat out a girl 🤭

🍋 - teach me part 3

reader x matt

summary: roles are reversed and you get to teach matt something new.

warnings: smut, oral f!receiving, face riding

word count: 1,302

author's note: i loved writing this series sm. thank you to the person who sent in this request, and thank you to everyone who showed it so much love, you guys are so sweet!! keep sending me requests, i love getting them!! no seriously please send some i'm running of ideas help

part 1, part 2

------------------------୨୧------------------------

it had been a great two weeks for the new couple. you went out on dates whenever you could catch a break in your busy schedules. matt already told chris and nick about the new relationship; they weren't surprised in the slightest, having already caught on to your feelings for each other long before either of you did.

the triplets invited you to hang out with them for the weekend since they didn't have to film and it had been a while since the four of you hung out, because it had been just you and matt for the most part. you arrived at their house earlier today and the four of you have already been out to the amusement park. you went on all the rides, nick bought bags of cotton candy for everyone, and matt refused to leave until he could win you a teddy bear from the games.

while matt was driving the four of you back to the triplet’s house, chris suggested going out for dinner. everyone agreed to go in like an hour or so since no one is hungry yet.

matt parks in the garage and you all go inside. chris and nick hang out in the living room while you and matt go into his room. you put the teddy bear on his nightstand and you pull him in for a kiss. “thank you for the bear.” “of course, baby. i noticed the way your eyes lit up when you saw it. i had to get it.” he glances at the bear and turns back to you. “you gonna name him?” “hmm..” you think for a moment. “rootbeer.” “that's cute.”

he sits down on the bed and pulls you onto his lap. he kisses you, and what was supposed to be a sweet, little kiss quickly escalates into a heated makeout. he takes your top off and leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and chest. “can i ask you something?” he questions between kisses. “mhmm sure,” you reply. “have you ever been eaten out, sweetheart?” he asks, expecting you to say no. “yeah, just once.”

he looks up at you, a little surprised that you said yes. some jealousy is evident in his expression, as if he's angry that someone got to taste you before he did and you quickly recognize the look in his eyes. “it's not like that,” you reassure him. “he was really bad at it.” he looks almost relieved when you said that. “i've never done it before.. but can i give it a try?”

you hesitate for a moment, “i don't know..” “you always make me feel so good, baby,” he says as he kisses down your neck again, “let me return the favour. teach me what feels good for you.” this quickly convinces you because you know that matt is much different from the other guy. you trust him completely and you know he'd be doing this for your pleasure and your pleasure alone. plus, his beard had started growing in a few days ago and you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel between your legs.

“okay, i trust you.” he smiles and kisses your lips, starting off slow until it escalates again. he moves you off his lap and onto his bed so you can lay on your back while he hovers over you. he reaches under your skirt and slips your panties off, leaving you in just your bra and skirt.

he lifts the fabric around your hips and spreads your legs. he peppers little kisses on your inner thighs and sucks hickeys onto the sensitive skin, making you whimper while the dark stubble on his cheeks gently scratch the area. he looks up at you. “how am i doing so far?” “you're good, keep going.” you run your fingers through his hair and impatiently try to guide his face to where you desperately want it. he chuckles softly at your impatience.

“such a pretty little pussy,” he mumbles before placing a kiss on your clit, causing you to let out a little moan. “what do i do now, baby?” “i don't know how to explain it,” you say as a slight nervous giggle escapes your lips from the intense look in his eyes, “just experiment with licking and sucking. try to focus mostly on my clit and maybe finger me too.” he nods and slowly licks from your dripping core to your clit, pulling a small moan from your lips as he tastes you. he takes your advice and starts focusing more on your clit. he starts by licking it, adjusting the pace and pressure based on the volume of your moans and the way you're tugging on his hair.

he experiments a little by wrapping his lips around your clit. he lightly sucks on it, causing you to moan and buck your hips into him. he takes the hint and sucks harder as you grind against his mouth, his beard tickling your inner thighs as you do so. “fuck, matt- you're doing so good.” he hums in response, sending vibrations up your core. he slowly slips two fingers into you, curling them to hit your g-spot as he pumps them in and out of you.

he stops for a moment and looks up at you, his plump, pink lips wet with your juices. “can we try something a little different?” “what is it?” he licks his lips. “will you sit on my face?” you eagerly nod and sit up. he changes positions so now he's laying on his back and your knees are on either side of his head.

he places his hands on your hips, bunching up the fabric of your skirt in his fists as he helps you lower yourself onto his waiting mouth. you barely have time to settle before he starts lapping up your juices like a starved man. he tries poking his tongue into your entrance. the unexpected sensation causes you to moan louder. he starts tongue-fucking you, starting off slow at first then getting faster and more relentless as he gains confidence when he realizes how well he's doing at pleasing you.

you start rocking your hips, loving the feeling of his tongue in you and the slight scratchy sensation of his beard. every time you move your hips forward, his nose bumps your clit. the mixed sensations feel amazing for you; you're crying out in ecstasy, grinding harder with one hand on the headboard and the other tugging on matt's hair. he seems to be loving every second of this, his groans making little vibrations against your core.

you reach your orgasm, the intensity of it surprising both you and matt a little bit. your legs are shaking and your eyes are rolling back as you scream his name, completely forgetting that chris and nick can definitely hear you from the living room.

matt doesn't let up, continuing to lick you until he's cleaned up every last drop of your cum, causing you to whimper and squirm above him. he plants a kiss on your sensitive clit before helping you off him. he brings you down to his lap before sitting up. “that was fucking amazing.” “yeah, it was,” you giggle breathlessly.

there's a sudden knock, interrupting your moment. “are you guys done yet? we're hungry,” chris whines through the door. matt rolls his eyes at his brother. “yeah, give us a minute.” you both get off the bed and you put your top and your panties back on. “are you ready?” you kiss him on the cheek. “yeah, let's go.” he takes your hand and walks out to the living room with you. the four of you leave to go to dinner and you have a great rest of the night with them.

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mrsbakashi · 1 year

Text

coming out of my cage just to post this and then going right back into it because i'm still taking a break

naruto characters and their kinks - uchiha edition (and kakashi)

(because i have to put him in everything, and if you didn't see this coming i don't know what to tell you)

⚠️ +18 content under the cut

itachi

➳ praise kink

he's such a sweetheart, has so much love for you in his heart he just can't not praise your every move. kisses every inch of your body going on and on about how beautiful and perfect you are, how soft your skin is and tells you how luck he is to be the one that gets to be with you. loves watching the way your pussy greedily swallows him whole, but also loves looking at your face squirming in pleasure, so he always activates his sharingan so he can see everything while telling you constantly how good you feel when your walls are clenching around him and you're the only thing in his mind. "you feel so so good, my love" he whispers while thrusting slowly and hard into you. "you're doing so well" he praises when you're almost there, drawing circles on your clit to get you there faster and harder. sex with itachi is never about him, it's only about you, so he only considers a job well done when you're kicking the air, pushing him away, begging him to stop because you can't take it anymore, then he cleans you up with a damp towel, pulls you to his arms and tells you what a good girl you were and reassures you how much he loves you while you feel your sleep sweep you away.

➳ breeding kink

uchihas and breeding kink, what a cliche - yes, ok, but no uchiha is so into breeding like itachi is. he doesn't do it purely because it feels incredibly amazing, or because the sight of your pussy overflowing with both your cums while he tries to fuck it right back into you is heavenly, but because, to him, it's about love - it's about how you love him so much you accept the idea of creating a life with him. he's used to cum inside you, it's been a thing since the beginning because he used it as a way to mark you, to make you his even so more and more, gently kissing you on the lips while emptying himself inside your warmth, but after you stopped you pill because you were trying the man just went insane - starting a family with the woman he loves most in the world, restabilishing the clan? hell yeah! you have him all over you all the time, and each time, let me tell you, you're not leaving until he's positive there's a baby inside you. but don't worry, he'll make sure you'll cum yourself and will tell you on and on how much he loves you. so sweet.

obito

➳ exhibitionism

obito's a slut for you, he's all about making everyone know you're his. and i mean everyone. made it his entire life's mission to make you scream so loud the whole neighborhood knows his name - and people tried to complain, but the second they see how scary obito is they actually apologize. loses it when you go on a walk and sees the way other men look at you - kisses you so violently in from of them and it takes everything in him to not take you right there. takes you out on drives to fuck you on the backseat in a random parking lot and hopes someone will see you two and see how much you belong to him, how eager you are for his touch. it's not enough that people know you're together, he needs to make sure everyone know he's the only one who can make you feel like that, completely given to him. you are his alone in every single way possible and the whole world must know that.

➳ praise kink

his praise kink is not about you, but about him. he loves the sweet praises that leave your lips when he's working wonders on your body, he'll coax the words out of you tenderly, sweet kisses here and there. please please please tell him over and over how he's the only one that can make you feel that good, that there's no one else in the world for you, and how insanely good his cock feels pounding into you, how he hits just the right place without any effort simply because you were made for each other and how happy you are that you belong to him. you make him feel like a god, he swears he can feel his soul ascending to another plan, and for that he'll give you more and more, he'll give you everything he has. everything. you have him wrapped around your finger.

sasuke

➳ dacryphilia

lives for the sight of tears on your beautiful face while he relentlessly fucks you, mercilessly tossing your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half like you're nothing but a doll that exists solely for his pleasure. pounds into you so fast and hard it honestly hurts, but it also feels so fucking good you don't care. loves the first thrust, when it's so rough because he's so big, and even if you're so wet it hurts and you always feel it won't fit - the little cries that leave your lips while you struggle to take him. loves loooves to make you gag on his cock, when he pushes into your throat and stops your breathing 'til you're desperately gasping for air, letting you breath for three whole seconds before doing it again and again and again til you're pushing him away with all your strength, nearly passing out, your face so red and wet with tears and despair. it's his favorite sight in the whole world, he'd kill thousands and thousands just to be able to see it. he loves you so fucking much.

➳ degradation/humiliation kink

boy, does he degrade you! not only is he mean with his actions, his words would hurt you more than a thousand cuts if he wasn't also so careful afterwards - you are his angel and he'll make sure you know that every breathing moment, but not when he's fucking you because he fucks you like he hates you, like he fucking despises you, violently pounding into you, rocking his hips against yours so hard you just know he'll bruise your cervix, and you will hear what a whore you are, that you begged for his cock to a humiliation point, and only when you got on your knees, crawling behind him, begging him to please please please at least touch you once was he kind enough to fuck you. "because that's what you are, nothing but a fucking whore!". you moan his name so loud he has to cover your mouth "filthy slut!" he slaps your asscheek so hard it's gonna leave a bruise the shape of his hand, because he loves hearing how you scream and cry, and that makes your walls clench harder around him "does it feel good, yeah? little filthy slut likes to hear how pathetic she is? fucking whore." he slaps your ass again, and again and again, 'til you're clenching so much around him he can't help but cum deep inside you, telling you you're nothing but an uchiha cum dump - good thing he's the last uchiha, because there's no way in hell he'd share you. you're his alone.

madara

➳ corruption kink

first time he saw you he thought you were too beautiful, too innocent to be left alone. he had to ruin you, to open your body to a new sensation only he could offer, then having you addicted on it, on him, so you'd act like a puppy around him, begging for the mere contact of his skin on yours. you were so young, you didn't know any better. honestly, you felt so flattered when madara uchiha himself showed interest in you that you ignored the warning of your father, but you had no idea he'd turn you into the perfect sub for his wildest and darkest needs and desires, literally begging on your knees for him to let you at least lick his boots, feeling like the luckiest woman alive when he kissed you. you went from a peacefully happy young woman to a great nothing but anxiety and desperation, completely obsessed with him - but when he fucked, god, when he fucked you! suddenly everything was worth it, you forgot how miserable you felt most of the time because of him, because you lived for those moments when he rocked his hips against yours, telling you what a good girl you've been to him. and you were his favourite, that's why he's trained you so well.

➳ power kink

i mean come on! come on! this man lives for feeling like a god, like the most powerful man that has ever stepped into this universe, so of course with you is no different. he'll make sure he's the center of your entire world - and not only during sex. you can kiss your friends and family goodbye, he's the only one you need now. church? faith? not in a million years - he's your entire religion. absolutely tortures you in bed, denies you so much, makes you beg til humiliation point so you have nothing else on your mind, nothing else you wish for but him, and when he gracefully grants your wish you'll know he is truly god. there's absolutely no one above him. he was, he is and he always will be. always.

kakashi

➳ brat taming

translating: he's a fucking menace. because he loves brat taming, he'll annoy the shit out of you until you're so mad you could explode, then he'll pin you down and fuck you hard just to show you he's the one in charge. "who do you think you're talking to like that, huh?" he'll hold your hands above your head, sometimes even tie them, so you can't even touch him, because you behaved so badly you don't deserve to feel his skin on the tip of your fingers "do i look like one of your friends for you to talk to me like that?". will tap your cheek to get you to reply, because you're so far gone you can't barely form a sentence "n-no, sir!", "good, then apologize", "i-i'm sorry, sir!". when you're almost cumming he'll reduce the movement of his hips to a bare minimum to make you beg, so fucks you slow and hard to make you come hard - and i mean hard. every single time. aftercare is heaven, tho.

➳ cum kink

his favorite sight in the entire world is his cum all over your body - keeps pictures of you like that in his phone so he can survive long missions away from you. he always comes hard and, tho he loves breeding you and seeing it come out of your beautiful pussy as he fucks it right back into you, nothing beats how beautiful your breasts look covered in his cum, how sexy you look with your face painted white as you naughtily smile after sucking him so good and making him come all over it. it's as if you loved it more than he does himself, and he doesn't think that's possible, but there you are, begging him to cum all over you, over and over again, rubbing it on your skin like it's your favorite moisturizer then looking at him with those eyes, those fucking eyes, asking for more. god, you're such a slut for him! it's so sexy he honestly pities how he can't fuck you 24/7, because doing anything else feels like such a waste...

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