#but they were so good together and then he ruined it by being the very definition of human trash | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kingofpopmj · 23 hours

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Can’t Go On Without You By My Side

Summary: You visit your boyfriend of two years on his BAD world tour. The excitement of witnessing him perform live is quickly tainted the moment she walks in.

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Requested: yes! BAD tour smut was requested, however I added my own little twist to it. I hope that's okay. I live for drama…

*Y/N's POV*

Michael and I were finally able to plan for me to visit him on tour. I was lucky enough to get a week and a half off of work and we were determined to make the most of it. Michael had insisted on picking me up from the airport even though he was technically supposed to be at the venue. We arrived about ten minutes after the show was scheduled to begin, but thankfully, no one called us out on it.

I stood off to the side, watching Michael completely own the stage. The way he mastered his onstage persona was breathtaking. His smile was so bright. I took a moment to discreetly admire his outfit, clinging to his body tighter with each passing song.

“He’s sexy, isn’t he?” A breathy voice sounded from beside me, interrupting my silent gawking. I guess I wasn't being as discreet as I thought.

“Um—” I looked to my left, making eye contact with a very tall woman. She was beautiful. A tight black dress clung to her body so tight it almost looked painted on. I know exactly who this is.

“The correct answer is yes. He can do it all, if you know what I mean.” My hands clenched into fists with such force I could feel my rings digging into my skin. “He’s absolutely the sexiest man alive. I’m so exhausted, he kept me up all night this past week. That's not a complaint by the way. He is so worth it.”

I couldn’t put together enough words to form a complete sentence. Quite frankly, all my focus was on holding myself back. I couldn’t catch a case right now. Michael might be cheating on me and this woman is certainly a whore. That was that. I couldn’t change fact. If I went off and beat the living shit out of some groupie it would ruin the rest of my life. I couldn’t let the anger control my behavior. He betrayed me, but I refuse to let him see how much it really broke me.

“I’m so sorry, I get all misty watching him. Don’t we all?” She laughed, squeezing my shoulder, little did she know she was dangerously close to losing those boney little fingers. “My name is Tatiana, and you are?” She held out her hand, batting her eyelashes so hard I thought she’d fly away. At least I hoped she would. Maybe over a large body of water, perhaps shark infested waters.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” She let out an exaggerated gasp, slapping her palm against her mouth.

“You’re the girlfriend! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” She quickly ran off leaving me standing there alone with this feeling in my stomach that I couldn’t describe.

I glanced around the immediate area, seeing no one else near me felt worse somehow. I don't know many people here other than Michael. I became distracted as he sang Rock With You, little did he know he was moments away from getting rocked. Y/N, no, stop. I release the tension in my hands, shaking it off, trying to let go of the violent thoughts swirling in my mind. Besides how therapeutic it was right now, it wasn’t productive. I need some air, a drink, a hitman? No. Air, I need air.

The clicks of my heels echoed through the halls as I headed towards an unknown destination. I'm probably lost, but that a problem for future Y/N.

*Michael's POV*

As Rock With You came to an end, I noticed Y/N disappear behind the curtain. Exactly, two songs have gone by since then and still no sign of her. During the brief outfit change after Thriller, before intermission, I notice Greg, my music director mouthing something to me.

"What?" I mouthed back, scratching my forehead. He's terrible at this.

"Your girl." Okay, I got that. I nodded, shrugging slightly as if to say and what about her.

"Mad."

I couldn’t play charades any longer, as the lights dimmed and the band took over the stage I snuck behind the large equipment to get closer to him.

"What happened?"

"I saw Tatiana talking to her. She did not look too happy after that brother."

I nodded slowly, processing his words before walking off. I should be taking advantage of my break, but I couldn’t relax not knowing where my girlfriend was.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing all the way back here?”

"Nothing I just needed some air." She said lowly, avoiding my eyes.

"Are you okay?" I moved towards her, cupping her face in my hands. The look in her eyes answering my question, but I wanted to hear it from her.

"Yeah, well, no, but it can wait until after the show."

"Are you sure?" I asked and she nodded in response. "Now, can you please come back with me? I perform better knowing my beautiful woman is watching me."

She accompanied me as I changed into my next outfit. She helped me slip into my coat, but my excitement was short lived, because I could sense her sadness. What is going on?

"I love you, baby." I watched closely as she struggled with her response, she began biting on her bottom lip, her eyes growing glossy. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Her voice cracked and she quickly turned away from me.

"I know you Y/N. You're hurting and I'd like to know what's going on so I can help."

"S—She—" Y/N broke down right, her body was shivering as she tried to compose herself. I felt less than helpless.

"Who?" I tried comforting her, but she brushed me off, moving away from me all together.

A quick knock on the door, signaling that intermission was coming to a close and I needed to get back out there.

"I'll let them know I need more time. I'll be right back."

"No!"

"You're crying. Y/N, baby, I'm not leaving you."

"I'm alright. Please, can we just talk about this later?"

I didn't want to agree, but she wasn't asking, she was practically begging. I intertwined our fingers, keeping her close as I weaved my way through the backstage area.

"Please, stand here and watch the rest of the show. It would mean the world to me." I smiled at her and kissed her temple as I hugged her.

"I'll be right here." She reaffirmed my confidence. Then, she grabbed my collar, pulling me into her lips. Her tongue was pure magic. Normally, I'd be embarrassed about public affection, but with the way I'm feeling, I'd love to feel every inch of her right here, right now. I didn't care who was watching.

She pulled away and I desperately chased her lips as she giggled at my neediness.

"You have to go."

"There is no way I'm leaving your side after that."

"You don't have a choice."

"I will be back. Very, very soon."

*Y/N's POV*

I watched the second half of Michael's concert the way I should've watched the first half. I enjoyed myself dancing and singing along to my man's voice. What Tatiana said hurt me, but I felt so foolish when I thought logically again. Michael isn't that type of person. I didn't need to talk to him about this, because once the anger and hurt wore off I was able to come to a conclusion on my own. She's lying. She has to be.

"You're still here?" This damn witch. "I'd be halfway home by now if I found out my boyfriend stepped out on me."

There was so much I wanted to say, but I chose to let her words go in one ear and out the other. The last thing I want to do is let her know she ever got to me.

"Well, that's my cue. Enjoy the show." She winked, walking pass me and flipping her hair.

I was forced to watch as Tatiana strutted across the stage with my boyfriend chasing after her. This was one of my favorite songs and now I couldn’t even enjoy it. I felt my blood begin to boil as she shamelessly flirted with him in front of the crowd of thousands.

She was getting closer and closer to him. She was doing this on purpose and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Why is this song so long all of the sudden?

"What the hell is she doing?" I heard Frank DiLeo grumble from behind me. I jumped a bit at his tone, but tried to play it off.

"Everything okay?" I asked softy.

"Hey darling, yeah she was supposed— what the hell! Get her off the damn stage! Now!"

I turned my attention back to the stage and I wished more than anything I wouldn’t have done that. I tried to blink as if that would change the view, but it didn’t.

I was stuck in that horrible moment as the worst thing I could imagine was confirmed. I had a front row seat to my own humiliation and I had no idea how to escape.

Before I knew it, she was walking towards me. "So happy you could be here to see what a real power couple looks like." She stopped in front of me, crossing her arms. "Sorry honey, he's moved on to bigger and better things."

I felt my cheeks heat up as I became uncomfortably aware of how many eyes were on us.

"Tatiana, that's enough. Get away from her." Frank shouted, shooing her away like a toddler.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

We stood in silence as Man in the Mirror blasted through the speakers. It wasn't until Michael's long passionate goodbye to his fans, wrapping up the concert that Frank slung his arm around my shoulder.

"Darling, you know she's full of it right?"

"I'm not sure."

"Michael and I have to take care of some business. I won't keep him too long and I'll send him your way after."

I knew that was his way of telling me it was private business that I couldn’t be around for. I hugged him before heading off, I wasn't really sure where I was going, but walking felt better than sitting with my thoughts.

"Baby! I'm so sorry. Frank told me what happened after—"

“I need to get out of here before I do something I regret.” Michael reached out, taking a firm hold of my hand, he pulled me down a short hallway and into his dressing room.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He finally spoke, shutting the door behind him.

“You’re sorry I had to see it?”

“Yes.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Y/N—”

“Does that mean you do it often?”

“No, that’s not—”

“You go around kissing other people when I’m not around?”

“Y/N, I’ve never—”

“I know they’re everywhere, throwing themselves at you, but I never thought you let them get to you.”

“Stop!”

“What!”

“I’ve never cheated on you!” He shouted in a tone I had never heard before, the look of pain present in his eyes began.

“That’s not what people are saying.” I muttered, suddenly feeling guilty.

“People? What people?”

“Who do you think! She said you two—”

“That’s a lie! I only see her during performances. That’s it. Y/N, I would never do that to you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you after that? She kissed you and you let her.”

“No, no, no! I didn’t let her! I wasn’t even paying attention to her. When I’m on stage, I’m there to perform. Why would I spend weeks planning for your visit just to betray you?”

“She was so awful to me, the things she said, then, she went out there and—”

“Got herself fired.”

“Michael, I’m pissed, but I’ll get over it. I don’t want this to affect business. You don’t have to fire her.”

“I already did.”

“Michael—”

“I only want to work with people who respect me and my loved ones. She won’t be missed. I don’t care to have people around me that I can’t trust.”

“I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry I accused you of—” Michael shut me up, gripping my hips, pressing my body against his and kissing me sloppily. His hand claiming a possessive hold of the back of my neck, deepening his touch.

"I love you." he spoke into my mouth, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. I felt myself tremble as his fingers explored my inner thigh, pushing up my skirt to give himself more access.

"I love you." I said, slipping my fingers around his belt buckle. He smiled knowingly, pushing me back, my ass collided with the counter and I felt myself crumble at his roughness. The cold countertop causing me to let out a moan. He pulled away for a moment, reaching behind me and clearing off the counter in one swift movement. "Such a gentleman." I purred in his ear as he picked me up.

"Only for you." A smirk on his face as the sound of nylon tearing filled my ears. "I love how sexy these look on you. I'll have to replace them." His long fingers slipping pass the freshly shredded fabric of my panties and teasing me one finger at a time. He watched as my head leaned back onto the mirrored wall, he chuckled as I struggled to find something to grab onto.

"Michael!" I was fighting to breath feeling him knuckle deep inside of me, hitting the right spot. "Fuck! Deeper!" I begged for more. Contrary to my needy cries, he pulled back, leaving me feeling empty as he unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall to the ground. I took this opportunity to tear his shirt off, throwing it across the room.

Michael pushed my legs apart, admiring how much I yearned for him, he slowly pulled me towards him with a strong grip on my legs. My bare ass slide across the counter painfully slow until I finally felt his hard tip press against my entrance.

"Always so wet and ready for me." He slammed into me, giving me no time to adjust which threw me further over the edge.

"Harder!" I yelled as he pounded into me with such intensity I swear I could feel him rearranging my guts.

"Baby, I want to cum inside of you." His voice smooth, making me even more wet.

"Please!" The walls were shaking as we continued to devour one another.

"You're fucking perfect." He whispered against the bare skin of my chest, I felt him everywhere. My eyes rolled back as his dick massaged all the right places.

Suddenly, the door swung open violently, causing me to panic and try to cover my exposed chest, but Michael stopped me. He grabbed my wrists trapping them behind my back in on of his hands as he increased his speed again. My moans escaped my throat against my will as tears of pleasure rolled down my cheeks. At this point, my entire body was shaking, Michael's tongue rolling against mine elongating my high further.

"What the fuck are you doing!" A voice shouted, causing my head to snap in the direction of its origin. Tatiana.

"You feel so good wrapped around my dick." He declared as he sucked on my neck. It was impossible to concentrate on anything else but his lips. "I'll never get tired of fucking this perfect pussy." Michael didn’t stop. He spoke clearly and confidently as he fucked me with purpose.

"Get the fuck out of here!" Tatiana yelled.

"Y/N!" Michael whimpered, his seed spreading within me, causing my legs to tingle. He gazed deep into my eyes, beads of sweat trailing down his face. "I fucking love you." His hand gently curled around the side of my neck, pulling me back into his sweet mouth.

"What the fuck!" Another shout from the demon herself. I paid it no mind. Looking back at Michael, his long dick still twitching inside of me.

"I love you baby." I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck, leaning into his neck to leave my mark. Tatiana stood there staring at us in shock, so naturally I challenged her stare. I waited to see if Michael would break focus, but he didn’t.

“We are busy in here. Close the door on your way out.” Michael said sternly between breaths, not even sparing her a glance.

The door slammed shut seconds later and it was only then that I took the time to look around the dimly lit room. Make-up and personal belongings littered the floor. Various unfamiliar items surrounded us, leading me to believe that I was made apart of one very well thought out, very devious plan and it turned me on.

"Michael?"

"Yes, my love?"

“This isn’t your dressing room, is it?”

“Nope.” He smiled triumphantly, planting tender kisses all over my face.

“You’re so sneaky.”

“You’re my girl. That’s never changing.”

“You quite literally marked your territory.” I giggled as he caressed my collarbone, watching as goosebumps formed.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, I’m just getting started. We’re gonna be here all night.”

“Let’s see what you got rockstar.”

“Baby, don’t make me carry you out on that stage and give those lovely people an encore they’ll never forget.”

“A girl can dream can’t she?”

I winked teasingly as I positioned myself onto my knees, looking up at the man I love, confident I was about to give him the best head of his life.

#michael jackson #michael joseph jackson #king of pop #michael jackson imagine #michael jackson x reader #michael jackson imagines #michael jackson fanfic

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buckttommy · 1 year

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vanessa james and morgan cipres could have been an ice skating power couple but he had to go and be a freak. sad !

#i know nothing about ice skating and just learned about these people last week #but they were so good together and then he ruined it by being the very definition of human trash #smh

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nkogneatho · 4 months

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"𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊"

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊

—cw: lactation kink, mentions of pregnancy, dirty, nasty, depraved stuff, vaginal sex, period oral mention, monsterfucking in kuna's (sukuna's is way too dirty), dry humping, drinking breast milk obv, not proofread (this is too long and i have an event tomorrow)

—a/n: i have officially lost it. is it obvious i have lost it? idk if this is the best or the worst thing you will ever read but this is very depraved and nasty. like...aaaaaaaaaahh okay i am normal. i put my big titties non existent breast milk into this so please read it all and i hope you enjoy.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

— satoru is the man who is always up for something new. especially, if it involves pleasing you because he's a good husband and that's good what husbands do. he knows how to pull out the naughty parts out of you, but he had to work his way up.

"I am just saying. It helps. Believe me," your husband was arguing with you.

"Cut it out, Toru. I am not letting you suck my boobs."

"But why?"

"Because it's gross and weird." The moment those words left your mouth, he audibly gasped.

"Did you just call our baby's food gross?" You rolled your eyes. He's always like this. It's not like you weren't curious of his reaction when he does taste you, you were just scared that he'd be disgusted. Plus the post pregnancy hormones are worst as they make you emotional over the silliest things.

"Please, baby? Just this one time. I'll be a good boy I promise." You hate when he addresses himself as if he's an angel. He is a mischievous devil inside. But rather than having him pester you for the rest of the night and ruin your hard earned sleep (since your baby's cries always wakes you up) You thought maybe let him and just get it over with...

"mmph ffhuck." His moans vibrated through your skin, "mhmm god ywo twaste shwo good." The moment he said that, all the insecurity left your body, and heat forming between your legs.

"Ngh—toru..." you felt so embarrassed—so dirty when his eyes locked with you. Your lashes fluttered and you looked away but you swore you could feel him smiling on your nipples. Your husband really digs out the emotions you never thought existed within you.

He was pressing them together, playing like he had just found a new toy. You had never seen so much amusement in those blue eyes as much as of now. Bright pink tongue lolling out to taste the squirting liquid when he squeezed both your breasts together.

"Feels good, right baby? ah!" *slurp* He wiped the dripping milk at the end of his lips with his tongue, and you couldn't process. You felt so wet. And he knew you very well. After all, you've been together for so many years.

"Lay down baby. I'll fuck you while I drink you." You never thought you'd ever hear that sentence but there it was.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

— toji has always been an experienced man. he has definitely tried a lot of things. but there's always areas to expand knowledge and new things to learn. he wouldn't do anything that makes you uncomfortable but he knew the person he was marrying wasn't ordinary. you, deep down, were just very dirty like him.

You had your legs stretched on the sofa, upper body resting on your husband's lap. Since you guys had a baby, it was very rare for you rest. Being a parent is the best thing in the world but it also feels worse than a 9to5 sometimes. Today was a good day though. Your boy was sleeping soundly and you had some quality time to spend with each other. Well, it's hard to go on a date at this time, but you both were just happy to be in each other's presence.

Toji was mindlessly flipping through some channels after he got bored halfway through that one movie he was watching. His emerald eyes fell on your ipad screen where you were scrolling through what seemed like a baby product websites.

"I thought we had bought everything for little gumi." You looked up at him then back to the screen.

"Oh this isn't for gumi bear. This is for me. These are called breast shells."

"What? Show me." He took the ipad from you and carefully observed the product you were supposedly buying. "So what is this a fashion accessory for mommies now?"

"Hehehe," you giggled. "No, baby. My breast oversupplies sometimes and it ruins my dress. They prevent that." You watched him as he sat there in silence, poking his tongue inside his mouth. Within two seconds, he flipped you on the sofa, and gently climbed on you.

"Why are you buying that shitty thing when I am right here?"

"Toji, what do y—OH MY GOD!" he pulled out both your breast pretty quickly, all thanks to your maternity clothes. He knew you won't stop him. He knew you would get wet when he'd do that. And he was right on the money. He started sucking so hard, you felt...foreign. He had sucked them a hundred times before but watching him flick your nipples with his tongue and the milk trailing down, fusing with the tastebuds until it goes transparent and his adam's apple bobs when he gulps it. fuck.

Toji's obvious boner grinds against your heat as he suckled on those pretty tits. The wet patch on your panties were now staining his grey bottoms too.

"Overflowing down there too, mama? Hmph," he chuckled. You were to focused on the feeling of his lips on your nipples that you forgot to see his right hand moving down to cup your heat.

"Ngh—twoji," you mewled.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of you." Thick fingers circled your wet clit, "Ya don't need those shells or whateva when i am right here." He is a great husband. He even saved you so much money that you were gonna spend on those silicones.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

—suguru worships you. it isn't obvious but you can feel his devotion towards you. the way his droopy eyes lights up when they fall on you, or his ears turn red when you kiss him. he loves how you take him in, struggling a little at first because he is girthy and a bit long, but when he bottoms out, you finally exhale and relax your walls around him. holy shit. he loves it. but this time, something different struck his curiosity.

"fuck. you sure we can do this baby?" He asked.

"'s okay, sugu. doc said we had to wait like six weeks and it's been three months." You were so busy in your post pregnancy life that you barely got time for just each other. You hadn't even kissed properly in months. "plus," you reached for his cock, "i need you." Those last words came off as a whine. You needed him and who is he to deny you off your pleasure.

You were on top of him as you positioned his boner to your entrance. He watched as your cunt swallowed him. This time, not struggling as much. Thanks to dilation.

"anh! suguuu~ mhmm missed your cock." You moaned so beautifully, he found himself falling in love over and over again. Yet, something was different. Normally, his eyes would focus down on how you well you take him as you ride it, but today he had found something rather more interesting. Your big tits bumped against his face and he couldn't take his eyes of those nipples. Those glistening nipples. He could see droplets of milk settling and honestly, they looked so fucking tempting. He let his intrusive thoughts win as you felt a warm sensation on your boobs.

"haaa—fuck. sugu, mhmm—no, it's gross" He didn't reply. He didn't need to. Pretending he didn't hear that was just right. Why would you even think anything about you is gross. He would kiss the soil you walked on.

"so fucking sweet. my sweet girl." *sucksucksuck* "these are f'me too, right? these were made f'me. hmm...sweet *suck* fucking *suck* girl.

congratulations. you just unlocked his new kink.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

—nanami is a gentke lover. we all know that. he is only mean in bed if you ask him too. that alone needs a lot of convincing because he is scared of hurting you. he is not too kinky but you can't say he's completely vanilla. he enjoys wrapping a tie around wrist as be eats you out. he also found himself getting hard when you called him "daddy." So yeah, he is a little kinky. But not in a million years Nanami Kento would've thought he would get hard watching you wipe the excess milk off your breasts.

"So i just put her down to sleep," you walked out of the baby room, with your left tit out, wiping it with a napkin. "What do you want for lunch—Kento?" He immediately broke the staring contest he was having with your boobs and looked at you.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Is everything alright? Is there something on my breasts?"

"Yes—I mean no. of course not." It was rare to hear panic in his voice which only made you mroe curious. You walked closer to him, hsi breath heavier than usual.

"What's wrong, Ken? Talk to me." shit shit shit. you were too close. he could feel your wet boobs rubbing against his cyan blue shirt. If you got any closer, you would loathe him for having a boner for such thing. He was ashamed of himself.

"Why are you looking away, baby? Do you not like me anymore?" Fuck. You're so stupid. Not like you? That man is in love with you so much. He cannot contain himself. You tried to get closer but he tripped on the foot of the couch and felk on it upright, and you on top of him.

oh.

OH.

You could feel it between your legs. You didn't even kiss him and it's not like you were seducing him earlier so you connected the dots pretty quickly on why he was hard.

"hmm hmm" you giggled. "is this what makes you hard you, ken? my lactating tits?"

"don't say it out loud, please." it was so fun seeing him all flustered. you adjusted yourself on top him as you thought of something very dirty.

"wanna taste? i know you're curious." he hesitated a bit, but a man like him can only go so high with his walls before he breaks them and let's his wife take control.

He started off with a few licks, testing his feet into the water. It was sweet with a hint of tanginess. The moment he felt it squirting a lot when he sucked, he fell in love. He acted like a kid who had just discovered magic. You chuckled between your heavy moans as you witnessed him trying to fit in your tits in his mouth as much as he can. You start grinding on him and it only makes him more desperate. He taps your thighs, a cue to pull your dress up and throw it in the floor. You watch as he hungrily latches his lips on your nipples quickly again. Your dress was not even off your arms yet. Nanami had discovered his obsession when he watched you squeeze you tits to squirt your milk on him.

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

—sukuna didn't even think it was possible for him to have a child as him being a curse and you being a human but here you were. he was in love with you. maybe his expression for love was different than others, but you felt it. be wasn't an embodiment of rage, but rather an overflowing confidence in his skills. That's where the cockiness came from. Existing for over a 1000 years, he thought he had experienced everything. Well...he was wrong.

"So...you just out this device on your chest and it gathers your milk?"

"Yes. It's called a "breast pump" and not a device," his vocabulary according to the new era was still weak but he was working on it.

When you detached the the vaccum of the breast pump from your boobs, Sukuna's eyes were fixated on them. He loved your tits. He had his fair share of biting and sucking on them till they were sore, but today they looked so plumped and so...succulent??

"What are you staring at? You want to drink it too or what?" You joked as you closed the lid of the bottle.

"Yes." You stared at him. Two minutes of complete shock snd silence.

"What?"

"What? You said if I want to drink it, and I answered."

"Yeah but—"

"Be a good wife, my little human. Good wives obey their husband's wishes." (Please let the feminist in you shut up for a sec and enjoy cuz i know he'd say smtg like this)

"Kuna...I don't know. It's nasty, y'know?"

"I think you're forgetting that I am a monster, baby. I ate you out during your those days of the month. This is less dirty." He yaps a lot someone shit him up before I die from embarrassment.

Sukuna laid you on the bed gently after getting you undressed. For the first time in so.many years, you were feeling shy again in front of him. It was quite an amusing sight to enjoy for him. He summoned a mouth on both his palm and licked your nipples. He wasn't sucking yet, but the hint of sweetness still laced his tastebuds.

"I am going to squeeze your breasts in my mouth now, okay?" Why did he feel the need to announce it? Weren't you already so flustered?

The tongues on his palm licked the skin of your tits before squeezing it when his mouth crashed against your nipples, spraying the milk. Sukuna sometimes forget you're a human. You're delicate unlike. The strong force of the suction made you whine and moan so loudly, it vibrated through the walls of the bedroom.

"mhmm I did not know my beloved wife enjoyed such depraved acts," he smirked when his thighs brushed against your bare pussy. you were dripping wet.

"Don't worry, little one. Let me please you. Hope you have pumped out enough in that bottle of yours. Because, I am going to milk you dry today."

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adelheidvonschicksal · 4 months

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The Love and Deepspace Boys Trying to Get You to Sleep ⋆｡°✩

Tags: Fluff, teasing, needy boys, mild sexual content, gender neutral reader (I had to re-write so please let me know if I messed up.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Xavier is surprisingly softer than you expected when you first met him on your mission together. He’s an incredibly powerful hunter but possesses a quiet and gentle, almost oblivious, aura when navigating everyday life, like a ghost floating through the space he takes up. It should also be understood that this very nature of his makes him affectionate, so much so, that he won’t unwrap his arms around your waist and stop pressing his head to your shoulder as you sit at the kitchen bar, typing on your laptop.

“Are you planning on staying up later than the stars?” he mumbles.

There’s a gentle yawn against your skin from the sluggish man, highlighting just how long he’s been trying to coax you into going to bed.

“I wanted to finish this report for work.”

“The report will be there tomorrow,” he says. You swat away his hand that reaches for the power button on the laptop causing him to pout. He grumbles. “You should go to bed. Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”

Smiling to yourself, you decide to tease him. “Oh, so you’re really trying to get me to go to bed for your own benefit?”

“Well, you can’t very well expect me to do it by myself anymore.” Xavier nuzzles his head into the slope of your neck, cuddling you. “It’s your responsibility since you ruined my sleeping habits.”

“Ruined?”

“Ramshackled,” he repeats quietly, causing you to giggle. With an airy sigh, he presses his weight into you more. “How do you expect me to sleep when I can’t hold you?”

Defeated, you save your work and close the laptop. You swivel in your chair, enough to meet his eye, and cup a hand to his cheek. It never stops being endearing to you how he cutely closes his eyes and angles his head to snuggle your palm.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to beg.”

His eyes flutter open, and the smile on his face grows as he wraps his fingers around yours. Carefully, he pulls on your hand to bring it up enough to begin to lace your wrist with affectionate kisses, tracing your pulse.

“I thought you enjoyed my begging.”

“That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” Xavier mutters into your skin, pressing another light kiss.

“It is.”

“So, you're resolute about that position?” he questions “innocently”. There’s something mischievous about the glint in those arctic eyes, which makes your face warm. You find yourself breaking eye contact, or else you’d lose it.

“Yes.”

Xavier chuckles then begins to lead his kisses down your arm. “In that case, care to explain the difference in detail, love?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sleep.”

“But—”

“Sleep.”

Zayne narrows his eyes at you from his side of the bed. You can’t blame him for being a little annoyed right now but the movie you put on to fall asleep was much better than you expected; and instead of falling asleep, you were more awake than ever at a very late one in the morning.

“I’m almost done with the movie,” you tell him, hoping he’ll cut you a little slack this one time.

“Everyone dies at the end of their own stupidity,” he bluntly states and grabs the remote. The television turns off with an overly loud click, and you pout. “Now, sleep.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m fine with that title if it gets you to rest,” he explains with a smooth yawn. “Poor sleep habits lead to bad decision-making later. You’re more likely to develop high blood pressure, and with your heart in particular—”

“I get it. I get it,” you say, wanting to be spared the lecture. Zayne is a good person and a better doctor, but you wish he didn’t worry about you so much just because you might have a little big heart problem. Sighing, you squiggle onto your back and pull the sheets up to your collar, kicking them a little childishly in the process (totally not to let him know that you were not pleased with his spoiling). “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Very.”

Zayne turns over onto his side, away from you, and you frown at the loneliness. Softly, you poke him in the back, once, then twice then a third time before you finally get a hum in response.

“Am I really not getting a good night kiss?”

“Do you need one to sleep?” he asks, his voice deeper from the lack of sleep, urging you to convince him to kiss you even more.

“Duh,” you explain. Slowly, he turns back over to look at you, propping himself up on one arm with a look that says “Is that so” as you continue to ramble. It makes you a little flustered when he watches you so intently. He’s always had this silent dominance that makes you obedient, but you could get what you want from him just as easily with the exact opposite strategy. Cutely, you puff your bottom lip out at him. “There has to be some health benefit to it. Kissing makes people all happy. Happy is good, right?”

It takes a second for him to take in what you say, those smokey eyes closing in on you with thought before he climbs over you. He places both hands at your sides and quickly boxes in your upper thighs with his knees.

“You’re thinking of dopamine,” he says.

“Huh?”

“That makes you “all happy”,” he explains and presses a deep kiss to your lips, leaving you thoughtless and breathless all at once. He moves to your jaw, and you begin to squirm from the pressure of his impassioned lips.

“And Serotonin.”

Another kiss, lower.

“Oxytocin.”

He’s at your shoulder when he starts to nip your skin, and one of his hands moves to ski up the back of your thigh.

“Reduced cortisol.”

Flustered, you grip his arms.

“Zayne, stop, it tickles,” you whine, but it’s the last thing you actually want as he readjusts his position and hovers above you.

His usually neat hair is messier and his breathing a little heavier judging by how his chest laboriously rises and falls. Groaning, you bite your bottom lip as he knowingly leans in and whispers,

“You need it to help you sleep, isn’t that what you said?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why don’t you just say you don’t love me anymore?”

You look up from your phone screen at the sudden accusation. You’re resting on the couch, your back propped up by the armrest and legs splayed out on the other cushion while Rafayel looks down at you with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased scowl on his face. You’re entirely confused as to what you could’ve done to make him think something like that.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing video games for what—the last two hours?” he says, uncrossing his arms to grab your phone. It’s too late to warn him as he glances at the screen, clicking a few times. “What are you playing anyway? An…otome? Sheesh, go ahead and say you want me gone. Come on, tell me you actually hate me.”

Holding in your smile, you shake your head and affectionately roll your eyes. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not laugh as he continues to rant. “So, it’s one of those things. I thought I was actually in trouble.”

And by those things, you mean his dramatics.

“Hush, my complaints are perfectly legitimate,” he demands as he pushes your legs aside and sits on the couch. Leaning over, he flashes the screen at you to show the evidence he has that you’re completely unfair, unfaithful, and downright mean. “What’s this game giving you that I’m not? Are my dashing good looks and even better personality not enough? Is that it?”

Gently, you take the phone from his hand and set it down on the end table. “You’re plenty, perfect even.”

He scoffs and refuses to look at you. “Apparently not. Don’t you ever think about anyone else? What if I want to cuddle with you one day but you’re too busy to notice because you’re playing silly games?”

Ah, there it is. His real want. You never know why he can never just come out and say it.

“Rafayel, do you want me to come to bed and cuddle with you?”

“Want is a strong word,” he remarks but you can see his resolve (can you call it that when he planned to give in all along?) crumbling as he slowly turns back to meet your gaze, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Not that you deserve it or care.”

Humming, you sit up, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down onto you. Lovingly, you snuggle him, stopping to only take in how red his neck and ears start to get when you squeeze him and start to stroke through his hair. You’re not sure if Lumerians can blow happy bubbles like he claims, but he definitely hums and relaxes his entire body weight to lay on top of you like he wants to sink into your skin.

Teasingly, you coo at him. “You’re so needy.”

“I’d rather say you humans aren’t needy enough,” he fires back as he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the corner of your lips. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory.”

Giving out a gentle and short laugh, you lightly tap his back. “Go to sleep.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

#zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace smut #adelssmut #notsfw

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nanaslutt · 4 months

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Never leave your girlfriend unattended with Suguru Geto

ʚ cont: fem reader, established relationship (you&Gojo), cheating, dubcon (they both want it but r! is hesitant to cheat), dirty talk, praise, sexual tension, teasing, oral(f!r), multiple orgasms, breeding kink, guilt, rough sex, manhandling, mutual pining, possessiveness, jealousy, getting caught // WC: 8k

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

A soft kiss was pressed to the top of your head, to which you closed your eyes in response, happily accepting it. Gojo pulled away and looked at you before ruffling his hand on your hair, making flyaways stick up. "See you in a couple of weeks, baby, be good to Suguru while I'm away." He said, smiling as you nodded before he gave you one last kiss on the lips and shut the door.

"You guys are just the cutest, aren't you?" Suguru said amused, standing against the entrance to the main room with his arms crossed, head tipped against the wall. You turned around and scoffed at him, "Were you watching us? Perv." You spat at your long-time roommate and friend, making him giggle and uncross his arms as he made his way into the room you were in, walking toward the kitchen. "If you don't want me to watch, kiss somewhere a little less public." Geto teased, grabbing a glass from the cabinet before walking over to the sink and filling it up.

"Like us being in our room has stopped you from being nosy." You tsked, walking towards him. You bumped your shoulder into him as you walked past him and copied his actions, getting a glass before placing it under the stream of tap water he had running. Geto shut the tap off and smirked at you, making you look up at him in annoyance, your eyes locking onto his. "If the neighbors can hear you, what makes you think I can't, hm?" Geto asked, leaning into your personal space, making you pull your head back a bit, trying to gain some distance.

Your jaw fell open in astonishment as your words failed to find your tongue from his words exposing your intimate moments with Satoru. You were about to respond when a large hand pat down on the top of your head, effectively shutting you up. "No talking back, Satoru said not to be nice to me didn't he?" Geto asked, a teasing lilt in his voice as he questioned you. You sucked your teeth, staying silent as you turned the tap back on, ignoring his presence.

Geto smirked in victory, his hand leaving your head as he bumped into your body while he walked past you. "Good girl." He praised before walking out of the kitchen and back into his bedroom. Your heart was racing as you stood in front of the sink. His words echo over and over in your head, 'Good girl.' You and Geto were no strangers to teasing each other and poking fun at the other, but lately, things have felt more tense than they should be, especially when Gojo wasn't around.

You hoped you were the only one who felt it, so this could be your dirty little secret that neither Satoru nor Suguru had to find out about. You were jolted back into your body and out of your head when you felt water caress your fingertips as it fell over the rim of your glass. You had been so lost in thought you had overfilled your cup, jeez, you needed to get it together.

Disregarding the water altogether, you set down the glass and shut off the tap as you rounded your way to the sofa, deciding a movie could be good to take your mind off things for a while. You laid sideways down on the couch, stuffing one of the decorative pillows under your head for comfort as you scrolled through a movie sight, waiting for something to catch your eye. You stopped the curser on a movie your friends had been raving about all week, some new romance movie featuring two very attractive love interests, and apparently it was supposed to be pretty steamy.

Normally, you would watch something like this in your own room, but unfortunately, your laptop had been ruined by Satoru himself just last week, forcing you to spend more time out of your room.

Gojo had finally, finally gotten inside you after being away for a week, per usual. You had been feeling so worked up while he was away, your fingers not bringing you any relief throughout your time separated, so when he was back the two of you latched onto each other like glue and wasted no time in connecting in the ways you really wanted to. You gasped against Gojo's lips as he penetrated you fully, him staying still against you as he gave your neglected cunt some time to adjust around him while he whispered dirty praises against the shell of your ear.

Just when you were about to tell him to move, Geto busts into your room without so much as a knock, ready to welcome his best friend home from a week's absence, only to be met with both of your sweaty and red bodies, flush against one another. Suguru raised his eyebrows in surprise as he raked his eyes over your body, or at least, the parts of your body he could see from Gojo's body laying on top of yours, an action you did not miss, causing a new wave of heat to course through your veins.

This wasn't the first time Geto had 'accidentally' walked in or interrupted something between you two, and normally Gojo was more teasing and lenient about it, but not this night. Gojo was so depraved of your pussy had his sights set on fucking you into the mattress all night long, and Geto was clearly preventing that. In an effort to get your shared roommate to leave so he didn't spoil the mood, Gojo reached over to your desk and threw a bottle of lube at the door, which he missed, horribly.

Because of his awkward angle and his arm having to outstretch backward towards the door, instead of hitting his target, he hit a glass half full of water which was conveniently placed right next to your laptop, which it spilled on, and ruined in an instant. Geto left the room with tears in his eyes from how hard he was laughing, and you and Gojo didn't exactly get up to much fucking that night.

Although, Gojo of course made it up to you by buying you the latest laptop on the market. Or to be more clear, one so new it wasn't even on the market yet, which is why a week later it still wasn't in your possession. It was supposed to arrive sometime within the month, so you could be patient. You knew it was a mistake and after his little show of how sorry he was, you made sure to thank him properly in bed, with his cock shoved down your throat.

You were starting to like being out of your room so much though, not like you would ever tell Satoru that, even though what he did had been an accident, you knew he would find a way to be smug about it and expect you to be grateful for what he'd done, claiming it was all apart of his 'master plan'.

Geto didn't leave his room much during gloomy days like today, so you figured you would have the main room to yourself as well, which just made you feel all the more comfortable, considering the weird feelings you've been having about him lately. Just when you clicked on the movie and the opening started to roll, you heard Geto's door screech open, making every hair of your body stand on edge as you prayed he was just going to the bathroom instead of joining you for a movie night.

Alas, lady luck was not on your side as Geto's heavy footsteps grew closer and closer, indicating that he was not in fact going to the bathroom and was heading in your direction. You forced your body to relax, laying as natural as you could for how on edge you felt with him around, you stared nonchalantly at the TV as he walked into the room, heading for the kitchen.

Geto looked in your direction, catching a glimpse of you sprawled on the couch before he stopped in his tracks, deciding his dinner could wait. "What's up?" He asked, his voice growing closer as he walked toward you. You bit your lip between your teeth and shut your eyes for a moment, cursing your luck before you opened your eyes and spoke, "Not much, jus' watchin' a movie my friend recommended." You said dryly, keeping your eyes on the screen as the movie starts to play.

"Yeah? What's it about?" Geto asks, making his way around the couch. You're internally screaming now, praying he'll get a call or something from someone that will make him go away. You could feel your heart beat out of your chest as Geto sat down by your ankles and picked them up, scooting a bit towards you as he placed them on his lap, dangerously close to his…

You decided to entertain his small talk, trying to distract yourself from the seemingly normal situation, and for your sake, you really hoped he thought it was. "Uh, I'm not sure, just some romance movie. Shoko said the girl who stars in it is cute, said the guy might be my type too." You responded, swallowing all the saliva left in your impossibly dry mouth.

"Oh? Satoru might be jealous if he heard you say that." Geto joked, his hand resting on your ankle, sending a heat racing through your body. You clicked your tongue, "I'm able to recognize when people are attractive, I'm sure Satoru does the same." You respond, biting the inside of your cheek. "Is that so?" Geto responded, a mischievous lilt to his voice as he spoke.

You opted not to respond, letting your attention fall solely on the movie. Only when you finally started to calm down and the conversation between the two of you had died down, something that made you want to bang your head against a metal wall showed up on the screen, in 4k quality. A sex scene.

The guy's head was between the woman's legs, and any intimate parts of the two people were strategically covered by other objects in the room with the help of the angle of the camera, but you could still see their facial expressions and hear their noises loud and clear. A whistle coming from Geto made you swallow hard as you watched the scene unfold in front of you, unable to look away.

"Shoko was right, she's hot as fuck." Geto praised, raising his hips as bit as he scooted forward, spreading his legs. You peeked over at Geto, and you noticed the man licking his lips at the scene, not like you could blame him. You ignored his comment, instead pressing your thighs subtly together as you watched them go at it, their noises going straight to your cunt. You prayed it would be over soon.

You thought you had gotten through it, when the sex scene ended and Geto said something that made your heart skip a beat. "She kinda looks like you." You wanted the couch to open up and swallow you whole. How could he say that after he just said how hot the actress was? Did he do that on purpose? Were you reading into things? The thought that Geto found you attractive made you press your thighs together harder, your feet moving a bit against his legs.

The movement made Geto start petting at the skin, his fingers teasing the dimple on the side of your ankle. You took a deep breath, trying to be subtle about it as he touched you. This wasn't uncommon, Geto was always touchy like this, even with Gojo around, you were reading too much into it, you were reading too much into it, you were- "You alright?" Geto's voice jolted you from your thoughts your eyes finding his.

His other arm was sprawled out behind you on the couch as he tipped his head against the cushions, looking at you with raised eyebrows and a suspicious look on his face like he knew something you didn't. "I'm fine." You stopped yourself short when you were about to ask why, nervous to hear his answer. Geto snorted, a quick, 'alright' leaving his lips that didn't sound all that convinced at your answer.

You were acting weird, he had to have picked up on it by now. You were acting as you did with Satoru when he teased you. Fuck, Satoru. Your boyfriend, Geto's best friend. You briefly closed your eyes and shook your head against the pillow, trying to make all thoughts of Surugu go away, you could absolutely not think about him in that way.

While you were trying to calm your racing heart, Geto's fingers slid higher up your leg, teasing the skin of your shin nonchalantly as he kept his eyes glued to the screen. You focused on your breathing, the words emanating from the TV speaker sounding clouded and muddled into gibberish as your arousal steadily grew.

You peeked at Geto through the side of your eye, trying to gauge if he was feeling anything either. Once again, lady luck was rooting for your downfall. The second you looked over at Geto to study his face, you were met with his dark eyes already looking at you instead of the TV. Thinking fast despite your heart picking up in your chest once more, you spat out, "What are you looking at me for?" Your words came out more suppressed and soft than you would've liked.

Suguru ran his hands in longer strokes along your leg, testing his luck as he dragged his fingertips from the ankle to the back of your knee, ever so slowly. "Just checking to see if you were enjoying yourself," Geto said vaguely, his words making your body heat up. Clearing your throat, you averted your eyes back onto the TV and away from his scrutinizing eyes, which seemed to look right through you. "I am, it's a good movie." You responded, trying to get the topic of conversation off of you, "How about you?" You added, trying to seem unaware of the growing tension in the room.

"Right." Geto said, a hint of all-knowing in his tone, "It's a good movie." He repeated, obviously aware that you were hiding something from him judging from your defensive tone you weren't even aware of yourself.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence once more, Geto's hand slowing his caressing of your thigh, allowing you to breathe more normally and relax your body again, save for the steady pulsing you felt in your cunt that wouldn't cease. Just when you were about to excuse yourself to get the water you previously abandoned earlier, another intimate scene occurred on the TV, making your entire body clench up.

You couldn't very well leave now, Geto would without a doubt think you were affected by the movie if you did that, even though you were. Figuring in your spot on the couch, your feet unknowingly scooted closer to Geto's crotch, making his eyebrows raise in surprise at your subtle movement. "You're getting squirmy again." Geto teased, outting your discomfort.

You could feel your heart beating loudly in your ears, your eyes staying locked on the couple who was making passionate love on the screen in front of you. You stayed quiet, hoping if you pretended like you didn't hear him, he would shut up for good, only that didn't happen. His hands caressed past the back of your knee, his fingertips teasing the start of the underside of your sensitive thighs before he spoke again.

"Does this movie make you miss Satoru? 'S that why you're getting all fidgety?" Geto continued, looking at you from the corner of his eye. Your breath picked up, coming out louder than you realized, as your heavy breaths reached Geto's ears loud and clear. You pressed your legs together again, trying to gain some relief as your roommate teased you.

Suguru grinned when you stayed quiet again, your expression telling him all he needed to know. Something was affecting you, something was making you aroused. He decided to test his luck and see just how far he could push this. "Sounds just like you guys, huh?" He persisted, licking his bottom lip as he watched his fingers tease the back of your thigh.

You released a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering for a brief second as you struggled to gain ahold of your reactions. "I have to listen to that every night y'know? You getting fucked by my best friend." His words were affecting you too much, you couldn't let this go any further. "Suguru." You whispered as sternly as you could manage, his name leaving your lips a little too breathily and needy.

Suguru looked away, his gaze falling back onto the TV, but his hand did not stop teasing your leg. You were now positive that this encounter and his touch was not friendly and had other intentions like you first believed. "You sound so pretty too, it's hard not to listen," Suguru exposed, causing you to bite your lip. The sex scene was long over now and the movie was coming to a close, and still, you and Geto lay there, staring at the screen, neither of you actually watching the movie.

"Suguru, stop," You warned, worried this was going to lead to something neither of you could take back. "You know I wanted you first?" Suguru said, making you squeeze your eyes shut hard, trying to ignore his words. "Talked about it with Satoru too. Who knew a year later he was gonna be dating you." Biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, you cast your gaze on Suguru, your expression silently begging him to stop talking.

"I should've-" "Suguru stop, please, please stop. I don't know what you're trying to do but we can't do this." You cut him off, pulling back your leg from his grasp as you sat up, your legs curled by your body as you held your body weight up with one hand behind you. You stared at him pleadingly, knowing you weren't going strong enough if he made a move.

"We?" He repeated, making your heart sink into your stomach. You fucked up, you hadn't meant to say that. "So you feel it too, don't you? And you've been feeling it for a while, haven't you?" Suguru asked bluntly, bringing everything out in the open. He was too far gone to play coy now. "I don't know what you're talking about. Slip of the tongue." You said, looking away as you began to get up from the couch.

Suguru's hand gripping your wrist made you stop in your tracks, when did he get so close? "Suguru let go." You said sternly, a hint of softness in your voice. "You want this, I know you do." He pushed, pulling you towards him. You winced, turning your head dramatically away from him. "I… I think I should go stay with Shoko till Satoru gets back. I'll pretend I didn't hear any of that." You said, adamant to keep your foot down, not allowing either of you to cross this line that could ruin everything.

Suddenly, you were under Suguru, and he was on top of you. Your legs spread around his knee that was placed between your legs, dangerously closed to where you had been needing attention all night. He held both your hands above your head, pinning your wrists down on the couch, immobilizing you, forcing you to face the situation. "Suguru don't do this." You begged, trying to keep your eyes off of his lips.

"I won't tell him, he never has to find out." Suguru breathed, his eyes solely focused on your lips, the complete opposite of yours. "How… how could you say that? He's your best friend." You said, defending your boyfriend. Geto's next word caught you off guard, rendering you speechless. "You were mine first."

You stared up at him desperately, your fate in his hands as you breathed heavily, not knowing how to respond, not even sure if you wanted to respond. Geto leaned down to the crook of your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin teasingly before he spoke, "You hear me? You were mine first," He repeated, followed by a kiss to your sweet skin.

A gasp left your lips when you felt him make contact with your neck. "S-suguru-" You gasped before trying to struggle against his hold, knowing this was wrong. "Been wanting to hear you say my name like that for a long time," Suguru whispered before peppering his kisses up to your ear, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. You whined, wincing at the sensitive and unfamiliar feeling of Geto's lips. It all felt so wrong but so good. Geto clearly had experience.

"Suguru haah-" You gasped, your attempts to escape his hold growing weaker and weaker the more time he spent sucking your ear. His lips traced back down to your neck before he found your sensitive spot and sucked. You whined, tipping your head to the side so he had more access to the skin there. You felt a blossom of warmth spread in your lower tummy, making you wiggle around, trying to get friction somehow.

"Suguru we- we shouldn't do this." You whined, your words coming out stuttered and breathily. He pulled away from your neck, admiring the little red hickey that was starting to form before his eyes drifted to your disheveled face, the face of a person who craved release. Your chest was rising and falling heavily and your mouth was slightly agape, your eyes lidded and cloudy to match your expression.

You thought Geto had ignored your words before he leaned down and hovered his lips above yours, a hair's length away from touching. He licked his own before speaking, his eyes flitting between your lips and your eyes, which did the same. "Tell me to stop," Geto said, giving you an out. Something in the way he said those words made you think he really would stop if you said so.

You'd been telling him to stop just fine only moments prior, only when this seemed to be a true out, an escape to leave to the sanctity of Shoko and forget this encounter ever happened, you couldn't find it in yourself to speak those words again. Breathing shakily against his lips, you whispered back the words that sealed your fate. "I can't"

In an instant, Geto's lips were latched onto yours, to which you hastily reciprocated his need. Moaning desperately against him, he finally gave you what you needed most, and pressed his knee against your cunt. He swallowed up your sounds of pleasure, griding his throbbing cock against your leg, matching your need. Geto had no idea how he was able to hold back for so long, he felt like he was about to explode.

He had been hard in his pants since your encounter in the kitchen a few hours ago, his baggy hoody stealthily concealing his arousal, making him seem like he had been calm and collected, when in reality, he was losing his mind. "The bedroom, take me to your bedroom." You gasped hastily against his lips, needing more relief than what his knee could bring.

Without a word from the man, he scooped you up in his arms and made a beeline for his bedroom. His hard cock rubbed against your ass with each step he took as you had your legs wrapped around his waist, giving both of you the much-needed friction you needed to stall yourselves as he brought you to the bedroom.

Geto through you down on the bed before he removed his hoodie and shirt in one fell swoop, leaving him clad in his boxers and sweats. You raked your eyes over his body while you followed suit, removing the oversized T-shirt you were wearing, which coincidentally, happened to be Geto's. He pounced on you before you were even done removing your shirt, his arms reaching up to help you remove your shirt quickly.

As you worked on your bra, Geto pushed you down and slid his legs under your hips, placing his hands on your thighs as he hoised you towards him, your body sliding down against the sheets. Everything was a blur, you two were moving quickly and silently, save for both of your gasps and heavy breathing, a tell of just how badly you really needed each other.

Geto made quick work of your shorts and panties, practically ripping them off your legs before you could even register what was going on. Geto pushed your legs back by the underside of your thighs, folding your body into a mating press as he started dropping his face down to your dripping cunt. Your hands stopped him as you covered your pussy with both hands, embarrassed at how open and exposed you were.

"W-wait I- I didn't shave-" You whined, your face hot as you tried to keep your eyes on his. Geto's eyes found your own, annoyed that you were stopping him from the thing he wanted most. "Move your fucking hands." He groaned sternly, having no patience for your insecurity over such a minuscule thing. You think he gave a fuck if you were shaved? He knew he was dealing with a woman, he knew what to expect, and he loved it.

You kept them firmly over your cunt, your wetness coating your fingers as you kept your pussy obstructed from him. Geto groaned before he leaned forward and licked at your hands, presumably where your clit was. "S-suguru-" You gasped, shocked at the shameless display of his need. He sucked one of your fingers into his mouth, successfully getting a small taste of you from where your wetness had gotten on your hands.

His eyes rolled back in his head from such a small taste, now needing to have more. His cock twitched in his pants, threatening to cum already despite barely having been touched. "I don't care, move your hands," Geto repeated, reassuring you it didn't bother him in the slightest. Letting your arousal guide you, you reluctantly removed your hands, exposing your pussy to his eyes.

Immediately, a long groan left Suguru's lips as he stared at your pussy, taking in the beautiful sight in front of him. "Oh fuck, you're even more beautiful than I thought." He said, biting his bottom lip between his teeth. His cock twitched harshly behind the confines of his boxers, spilling pre-cum against them as his eyes were blessed with the sight of you.

"D-don't say stuff like that," you whined, gripping his hair for support as you looked away from him, too embarrassed to face him and his dirty words. "Get used to it." He said sternly before he dove in, his tongue licking hastily against your folds.

Your nails scratched against his scalp as your head fell back against the sheets, your eyes rolling in your head. "Ffff-uck!" You cried as Geto moaned against your pussy. His tongue was darting quickly back and forth against your clit, his rough and sloppy movements making you see stars. "Ohmygod-" Geto groaned against you, his words sending vibrations through your cunt, causing your body to jerk inward.

Pulling back briefly Geto released one of your legs to slap your bare cunt, resulting in a loud cry from you before he dove back into sooth your pussy, his hand grabbing your thigh firmly once more, keeping you in the mating press. "I-inside, S-suguru p-put your tongue inside-" You gasped, needing to feel something inside you. Suguru wasted no time in acting on your words, his tongue diving penetrating you with ease.

You moaned lewdly feeling his tongue thrust in and out of you, just short of where you needed to feel him most, but the stimulation still felt amazing. His face was pressed so firmly against your cunt that his sharp nose was digging into your clit, stimulating it each time he shook his head back and forth against you, slurping loudly.

"Fuck- fuck I'm gonna cum- S-suguru I'm gonna cum-" Geto couldn't help but feel proud at the cry he's heard so many times replaced with his name instead of your boyfriends. The declaration made his cock twitch, his hips canting into the air against nothing. You tried to squeeze your thighs against his head as your orgasm crept closer and closer, your mouth falling open in a silent scream until-

Geto pulled away, leaving you just short of your orgasm. "Need to feel you cum around my cock." Geto said desperately, placing your legs over his thighs as he sat back, uniting the knot in his sweats. "S-suguru…" You pouted, reaching your hand between your legs you started rubbing your clit in small, slow circles, keeping yourself right on the edge as you waited for him to get his cock out.

Geto watched with a slacked jaw as you played with yourself shamelessly in front of him, your fingers teasing the entrance of your tight cunt before rubbing back up to your swollen clit, making his mouth water. The bottom half of his face was coated in your wetness, and his flyaways had stuck to his face by your slick, making him look so needy and sloppy, it was cute.

Geto groaned when he pulled his cock out of his boxers. He pulled the sweats down a couple of inches, just under his balls as he started slowly jerking himself off, spreading his wetness over the length of his cock as he watched you. "Spread yourself open." He demanded, his eyes focused on the opening of your cunt where his fat dick was about to be.

You were a bit shocked when you finally saw his unobstructed cock, so it took you a minute to register his words. He looked pretty big judging from his bulge, but nothing could've prepared you for the sheer girth and length he had, which far surpassed Gojo's. Sure Gojo's cock was impressive, but a side-by-side would've made your boyfriend's look pathetic. "Baby, let me see your pussy." Geto repeated, his hand rubbing on top of your thigh, jolting you out of your own head.

With a meek nod, you spread your folds apart for him, looking away as you did so. Geto groaned, you could hear the squelches get louder and more frequent as he started jerking himself off faster while staring at your little hole. "Fuck… you think you can take me?" He asked, leaning over you, keeping his hand jerking himself off, the other planting by the side of your head.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, scratching your nails on his nape, making him groan. You looked between the two of you, watching as Geto touched himself while hovering his tip just above your pussy. "It's so big, isn't it?" Geto teased, reading your mind as his eyes scanned over your face, watching you watch him. You looked back up to him, your chest rising and falling quickly with anxiety and arousal as you nodded.

"But you can take it, can't you?" He asked, nodding at you, basically telling you the answer he wanted to hear. You nodded back, not really comprehending what he was saying, you just wanted him to fuck you. "Beg me for it. Tell me how bad you want this dick." Geto whispered, rubbing his tip against your clit as he leaned into your neck, pressing kisses against the skin there. You gasped, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist as he teased you, making out with your neck.

"Tell me how bad you want me inside you, c'mon.." Geto begged, sucking hard against your skin. If you had half a mind, you would yell at him for trying to mark you up. You didn't even let Gojo give you hickeys. Instead, you pressed his head harder against you, welcoming the feeling. A nudge against your wet entrance from his fat tip made your words find your tongue, your cunt throbbing and begging him to get inside you already.

"I want it so bad Suguru." You whispered, your face growing hot at your words. "Want you to fill me up, ruin me, wanna feel you in my fucking guts." You blabbed, letting your pussy do the talking as he frotted his dick between your folds, his dripping cockhead hitting your clit just right with each thrust, making you feel like you were going to cum again.

Geto groaned at your words, drip after drip of pre leaking from his slit, rubbing all over your pussy. "You're on birth control right?" He whispered against your neck. He knew it was a little too late for that, seeing as he had been rubbing his cum all over your pussy for a while now, but he figured he would ask before he said his next few words.

"Y-yeah, you can fuck me raw." Geto wasn't expecting for you to say that. His teeth sunk into your neck at the declaration, making you whine out and can't your hips up against his. "You let Satoru fuck you raw?" He asked, clearly getting jealous and feeling a little competitive. You cringed at the mention of your boyfriend, not wanting to think about him right now, you could regret this later if you so chose.

Begrudgingly you answered him with a small nod that he wouldn't miss for anything. "Just me? Am I the first one to fuck this pussy raw?" He asked, beginning to line up his cockhead with your entrance, pushing his hips against you lightly, teasing you. You felt the guilt start to creep over you, you had no plans to ever let Gojo fuck you raw unless you were trying for a baby, which he knew, and yet here you were abandoning all that for your boyfriend's best friend.

"Y-yes" You whined, feeling embarrassed. "Goddd-" Geto groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Geto didn't really have a fetish for virgins or being anyone's first, but when it came to you he was particularly possessive. He hated the idea of anyone touching you before him and has had to deal with it for over a year now. So the fact there was a part of you that Satoru hadn't got to feel yet made him ecstatic.

"Gonna let me be the first one to cum inside you too?" He asked, lifting his head from the crook of your neck, smirking at you mischievously. At that moment, you forgot you were cheating on your boyfriend, all guilt washed out of your head as your eyes met with Geto's. You admired his handsome, pleasure, and lust-filled face before you pulled his down against you, crashing your lips together.

"Do you want that? You wanna cum inside me?" You teased, pulling away from the kiss to whisper against his lips. "So bad." He answered, staring into your eyes, pressing his tip harder against you, threatening to penetrate you. "Suguru-" You whined against his lips, making him reply with a cry of your name, keeping his gaze solely on yours as he pushed against you until his fat tip slid inside you with a pop.

You jolted against him, both of your jaws falling open in tandem as he finally breached your walls, just his tip stretching you open. "Oh fuck- oh fuck-" You cried, unconsciously squeezing tighter around him. Geto leaned forward and started kissing you passionately, trying to distract you from such a big stretch. Tears started welling up behind your lids as he pushed himself in deeper, at least a few inches now.

"It's okay, relax, loosen up for me, I got you," Geto whispered between kisses. You kept your arms firmly around his neck, needing all the comfort you could get as he nearly ripped you open. You did your best to take deep breaths through your nose, trying to relax your cunt around him. Your nails scratched harshly along the skin of his back each time he fed you another inch, making him groan in pleasured pain against your lips.

Geto broke the kiss to look down at where the two of you were connected, noticing he was almost fully inside you. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks from the stretch, but it was undeniable that it felt good. Geto was completely filling you up, leaving no room for him to miss rubbing against any sensitive spots inside you.

He was about to praise you for how well you were taking it when he felt extra pressure be applied to his cock. Adjusting his gaze up a bit, he noticed you were pressing down on the small budge on your stomach, a gasp leaving your lips each time you did so. Geto decided to just watch, despite the intense throbbing he felt watching you cry over his cock splitting you open. "H-ah, I-it's so deep." You whined before looking back up at him, pleasure written all over your face.

Geto grit his teeth and started up a brutal pace inside you, knocking the wind out of your lungs. "Filthy fucking mouth- H-ahhh" He groaned, pulling his cock in and out of your tight cunt. He couldn't believe how warm and soft you felt, he never wanted to pull out. "S-suguruuu-uu" You whined helplessly against the sheets, letting him handle your body like a ragdoll as he mercilessly fucked you.

"I knoww I know~" He cooed, shaking his head at you, his free hand wiping your tears away. "You'll get used to it soon I promise, just let me take care of you, let me make you feel good." Any response you might've had was cut off by Geto's fingers rubbing quick circles against your clit. Your hands shot down from pressing on your tummy to grabbing his wrist, trying to get him to let up.

"I didn't know you were such a crybaby in bed." Geto teased, angling his hips just right to massage your sweet spot, making you dizzy. He cooed at you as your eyes rolled back in your head, your nails digging against his wrist harder. "Do you cry like this for Satoru? Huh?" Geto asked, to which you just whined and shook against the sheets, trying to let him know you were close, but your words failed to find you.

The only warning Geto got before you came was your back arching off the sheets and you cried turning to silent gasps before your cunt squeezed tightly around him, trying to milk his cock as you came. A choked moan left his lips as you orgasmed around him suddenly, making him lose his rhythm a bit. Once he realized you were cumming, he found his pace once again, fucking you through your high and keeping his fingers rubbing against your clit.

He leaned down to connect your lips, kissing you sloppily. He sucked on your tongue lewdly as your mouth hung open while you came, moan after moan being fucked out of you. Your eyes were fuzzy and all out of focus once you came down. You tried to blink away the cloudiness to get a better view of Geto as he pulled away to study your disheveled face, but you were still feeling the aftershocks, not allowing you to fully focus yet.

"You came so hard, felt so fucking good when you squeezed around my cock like that." He praised, placing his hand on your waist and away from your clit as he slowed his thrusting, giving you a second to catch your breath. "S-suguru-" You cried, your body shaking and jerking each time his tip brushed against your g-spot, sending bolts of overstimulation to shake you. "I'm a bit jealous you came after I mentioned Satoru though." He said pouting, clearly annoyed but fabricating most of it so you would feel bad.

"N-no it w-wasn't that-" You tried to reassure, worried that if you didn't clear things up now he wouldn't go so easy on you in the future, as if he was going so easy on you now. "No? What was it then? What made you cum so hard?" Geto asked, slowly picking up his speed again once he realized you were coming back down fully. You gasped and winced as he started fucking you again, trying to find your words before he fucked them out of your head.

"W-was you, y-you're so big 'n you're hitting all the r-right spots." You revealed, pulling him against you, burying your head in the crook of his neck, embarrassed at your own words. Clearly, this confession made Geto feel a whole lot better though, as he started fucking into you faster than before. "Oh fuck, yeah? I do hit all the right spots don't I?" He cooed, working himself up.

You nodded against him, more tears falling down your cheeks and getting in his hair. Geto grinned, biting the shell of your ear, "'Ur fuckin' me in all the right spots too baby." He praised, feeling a warmth start to form in his belly, his balls tightening. "Huggin' my sensitive tip so good, massaging my dick with your warm pussy. It feels so fucking good. Wish you could feel what I feel." He told you, nearly whimpering into your ear as he worked you over, his pelvis rubbing against your clit from how close he was.

His trimmed dark hairs near the base of his cock tickled your tummy as he rubbed his hips back and forth against you, quickening his pace before slowing down, throwing you off with the change in rhythm."I-I'm glad. W-wanna made you feel good Sugu-" You whined, squeezing your arms around him harder, feeling extra sensitive from how he was completely smothering you.

"Yeah, baby? You like making me feel good? That's so sweet. You're so sweet." He praised, closing his eyes as he mumbled the words into your neck. He tried not to think about what was going to happen when this was over, but it was hard not to as he approached his orgasm quickly while he felt your walls start to pulse and squeeze around him, a telltale sign of your orgasm.

"I t-think I'm gonna cum again," You cried, biting down on his shoulder. Geto groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head as he welcomed the feeling. His body was yours to use and dispose of, he was entirely at your mercy and would do and take anything as long as it meant he made you feel good. "I'm gonna cum to princess, still want it inside you?" He checked, his words coming out breathy and quick, he wasn't going to last much longer like this.

"Please Geto, please c-cum inside me-" You begged, repeating his name like a mantra as he fucked your cunt harder, loud squelches emanating from between you. A thick ring of your cum was pooled at the base of Geto's cock, a sight he would jerk off to for years if he got the chance to see it. "Good girl, gonna fill you up so fucking full with my cum." He groaned, "'nd you're gonna take it all right? Gonna keep it deep inside you all fucking day?" Geto was babbling nonsense at this point as his balls tightened, ready to release his load inside you.

You nodded vigorously against him, gripping onto his hair for dear life, keeping him pressed into the crook of your neck. Your back arched against Geto just as his thrusts started losing rhythm, both of your jaws falling slack and moans going quiet as he did his best to fuck you through it. Both of you jerked forward and groaned, you cum being forced out around him as he came.

Geto's seed shot deep inside you, his cum filling you up to the brim. He laid his weight on top of you as his orgasm was wracked through his body, wave after wave of his high hitting him like a train wreck as your pussy milked his balls. You came down first, your hands petting the skin of Geto's back as he groaned and occasionally jerked against you, making sure he was as deep as possible until all of his seed was released into you.

When he came down, he stayed sill. Neither of you dared to move, dared to speak, as you basked in the afterglow of your orgasms. You were the one to break the silence when you whispered for Geto to pull out because his cock was making you sore. With a hushed apology, he sat up and pulled his cock slowly out of you, making you wince in discomfort.

"There's so much…" You whispered, once again holding your hand on top of your stomach as you felt how deep his cum was inside you. Geto blushed before he smiled, raking his sweaty hair out of his face. "Sorry, is it uncomfortable?" He asked, rubbing his fingers along your thighs, trying to soothe your muscles. You shook your head, although when a glob of his cum dripped out of you, it sure felt uncomfortable, but you didn't want to bother him with such a small thing.

Geto leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips softly before pulling back and looking into your eyes. You wrapped your arms around his neck, looking at him with softness and uncertainty of what you were to do now. "You did so good, that was amazing." Geto praised, easing some of the nervousness you felt. "Yeah, it was." You agreed, nodding before you pressed your lips back on his, kissing him slowly.

After a few more minutes of kissing and winding down from such an intense interaction, Geto picked you up in a princess carry and started for his door to take you to the bathroom to make sure you didn't get a UTI from this. Only when he opened his door, what he saw was the last thing he was expecting.

Gojo Satoru, briefcase and all, was standing crossarmed outside his room agaisnt the wall, an unreadable expression on his face. You felt like throwing up and you got out of Geto's hold, standing on the ground in front of him on shaky legs, clad in only Geto's shirt with dark purple hickeys littering your neck.

Your heart was racing out of your chest, and judging from Geto's expression, his was too. Gojo sniffed before he spoke, uncrossing his arms and stuffing them in his pocket when you started to walk towards him. "Guess there's a blizzard so my flight got canceled. No work for a week." He said, answering your unspoken question of why he was back. "Welcome home Satoru!" He said dramatically, an unreadable expression on his face as he held his arms up in mach excitement.

He was smiling but his eyes said something completely different. Besides the quick glance at your neck, Gojo's gaze was focused solely on Geto. The two men refused to break their sights on one another, the air around you thick enough to cut with a knife. Yeah, you were really going to be sick.

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gogogodzilla · 7 months

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Leave the Light On

mike schmidt x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, continuation of this post, panty sniffing, semi-public masturbation, sex tape, consensual somnophilia part 1 ✩ part 3 ✩ main masterlist ✩ read on ao3 ✩

As soon as he awoke, he knew something had happened. His thighs and groin were covered in the sticky remnants of cum and his briefs were skewed. You’d made good on your promise, and excitement hummed under his skin at the thought.

He was more confident that you’d taken him up on the offer when he looked in the mirror and saw the hickies coating his neck and chest. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed as he took in the marks.

He slid on the jeans you had set neatly on the edge of his bed and opted for a hoodie that would cover most of the marks you’d left. He definitely didn’t need Abby asking how he got them.

His ears perked up at the sound of you coming in through the front door accompanied by hurried footsteps. Abby was talking excitedly about something and you commented here or there.

He’d entered the kitchen, and your eyes lit up at his appearance. You gave him a devilish grin as you sat at the kitchen table, listening to Abby as she talked.

The rest of the evening was spent with lingering glances and fleeting touches. He wanted to ruin you as soon as the two of you were alone, but you kept him at arm's length. You led him into the kitchen and retrieved something off the counter.

You handed him a paper bag, “I made you lunch. Dinner, maybe?” He nodded and went to open the bag to inspect its contents. You grabbed his wrist. “Just wait until you get to work, okay?”

“You’re asking me to be very patient tonight,” he pointed out, sliding a hand around your waist.

You pecked his lips and pulled him closer, “It’s worth it. Promise.”

Once it was time for him to leave, you held the door for him and walked him to his car. You had that grin that told him you were up to no good.

“I hope you enjoy your lunch,” you mentioned as he reached the driver’s side door.

His eyes flicked to the paper bag clutched in his hand and back to the grin that danced across your lips. Slowly, he started to put the pieces together, and excitement mixed with something else stirred in his belly. He gave you a quick peck on your cheek and yanked open the door to his car, suddenly eager to get to work.

He kept an iron grip on the wheel for the entirety of his drive. The paper bag sat in the passenger seat, taunting him. He was glad he was the only one in the parking lot as he haphazardly whipped his car into a spot.

His legs moved almost as quickly as his thoughts as he entered the pizzeria. His footsteps echoed throughout the hallway as he walked toward his office. A small part of him felt embarrassed that he was so excited to see whatever was in the bag.

He forced his breathing to steady as he entered his office. Mike didn’t pride himself on being a patient man, but he figured whatever was in that bag would definitely be worth the wait. He leisurely went through the motions of his nighttime routine, checking the security cameras and making sure all the animatronics were in their correct spots. He’d hoped they would leave him alone just long enough for him to open his gift.

Finally, he settled into his rolling chair with the paper bag in his lap. He prayed he wasn’t getting his hopes up for a sandwich. He gingerly opened it and peeked inside. Nestled neatly among the contents of the bag was a VHS tape. His heart rate quickened as he pulled it out and read the label on the front. ‘For Mike’ was scribbled in your neat scrawl and hearts were scattered along the label.

His hands shook slightly as he ejected the training tape from the player and slid yours in. The TV came to life and it took him a moment to figure out what he was looking at. His eyes widened when he realized he was watching himself sleep. Midday light was shining through his window, and you were grinning as you stepped into the frame.

You were wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his hoodies; his cock jumped in his jeans from just that alone. Such a simple sign of ownership had his breath catching in his throat as he continued to watch. You made a show of stripping for him. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly tugged them down your legs. You’d taken your underwear off at the same time as your sweatpants, wasting no time in baring yourself to him.

You had that same grin that he loved as you bent down to pick up something off the floor, giving the camera the perfect view of your ass. He felt like he was about to burst as you lifted his pants and, with a flourish, tucked your underwear into the front pocket.

He frantically patted the front of his pants and reached inside each pocket. He released a sigh as his fingers wrapped around the lacy fabric of your panties. He pulled them out of his pocket and brought them to his nose, breathing in your scent.

His cock pressed uncomfortably against his jeans as he watched you take your hoodie off, revealing that you wore nothing underneath it. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as your fingers danced across your chest. He leaned back in his chair, your panties clutched in one hand while the other worked to free his cock from his jeans.

His fingers were clumsy as he unbuttoned his jeans and yanked down his zipper. He slipped his hand past the waistband of his briefs and gasped as he finally slid a hand over his length. He watched as you caressed his thighs before moving to finally touch him.

He tugged his briefs down and under his balls, just like you did on the tape. Your actions were gentle but precise as you stroked him. He matched your pace perfectly. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you slid your hand over his aching cock.

You pulled away, and Mike halted his own movements, a low whine escaping him. His cock jumped in his hand when you wrapped your plush lips around his cock. He swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock, matching the seductive way your tongue swirled around it. Your position in front of the camera allowed him to see every minute detail of you bobbing your head around him, and he could already feel the familiar coil tightening in his abdomen.

A strangled sigh escaped his lips as you drew back with a wet pop. You darted your tongue out to taste him across your lips. A shiver went up his spine at your actions. You were careful as you straddled him and drug your core against him.

He moaned along with you as you lowered yourself onto his cock. He was slightly surprised he didn’t wake up with you above him whining like that. A part of him wished he did wake up, so he could’ve fucked you properly.

He planted his feet and rutted his hips into his fist as he watched you create the marks he now donned. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled his small office, and every inch of his skin burned with desire.

He took your panties and slid them across his cock, moaning as the lacy fabric drug against his flushed skin. The feeling mixed deliciously with the smoothness of his palm, and his back arched against the chair. His jaw went slack, each breath punctuated with a needy moan and a thrust of his hips.

With a strangled cry, he was cumming, eyes glued to your form as you fell apart on his cock. The pretty little whines you were making were going to be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. The white strings of his release covered your panties with some dripping down his fist and across his knuckles.

He used your panties to clean up the mess he made. His cheeks flushed as the lace smeared his release over his cock. He prayed you’d leave the light on for him.

#mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #reader insert #no y/n #five nights at freddys #josh hutcherson #michael schmidt

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soapyblubbles · 9 months

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⋆｡˙ runaway pets ˙｡⋆

pairings: dark regulus + dark poly marauders

warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, implied kidnapping, threesome, implied fivesome, voyeurism, overstimulation, (light) slapping, choking, stockholm syndrome, smoking, shotgunning, pet names, etc.

a/n: please enjoy the much more comprehensive version of one of my very first works. there were a lot of inconsistencies and issues with the first version. I added a lot more detail to this and it honestly feels more like a one-shot than a drabble now. i'll add the unedited version at the bottom just incase anyone wants to take a peak. anyways, happy reading <3

“I told you it’d be worse if you went to get help.” Regulus sits on one end of the bed, a small indulgent smile flitting across his lips. As if nothing was wrong.

As if you weren’t being fucked within an inch of your life.

You turn your head to him, breathless pants leaving your mouth as Remus continues to rock into you. His hips slap into your own at a steady pace. How long had he been sitting there?

The air is stifling, sweat beading along your forehead and the small of your back. The arm around your waist only adds to the oppressive feeling, Remus’ strong grip keeping you upright and in place.

Your arms shake from exertion, and you have to force your hands to unclench from where they’re fisting the damp sheets.

With a whimper, you reach for Regulus, trying to find the comfort you once found in him before it all. Before he had selfishly stole you away. Before you knew of the darkness lingering just beneath the surface.

You weakly try to pry off the arm wrapped around you, but it doesn’t budge. It only tightens, pulling you up until your back hits Remus’ firm chest.

“Want sir now. Please- Remmy-” The lanky brunette ignores you, muttering something unintelligible into your neck as his thrusts speed up. Your attention was stolen from him. He doesn’t like that- not one bit.

Your face crumples at the silent dismissal, the tears you’d been holding in falling just as you reach another trembling high.

“Please, m’sorry sir- c-can we please go home now?” You gasp out. Your limbs burn, they have been for a while you suppose, but still you try to ignore it, concentrating on just Regulus for now.

But he only hums noncommittally, standing as he makes his way to the makeshift bar in the corner of the room. Regulus rubs his jaw in mock thought, scrutinizing the scene before him while he pours himself a glass of firewhiskey. The smell of cinnamon saturates the air, adding to the heavy atmosphere.

“Thought you wanted to come here-“ He gestures around the room, lazily draping himself on the nearby armchair. “For help.” The last word is said with a sneer and laced with so much venom that you balk.

Even though you can tell he’s done arguing about it, you still sob out: “I’ll be good- promise.”

You hear Sirius let out a scoff. He’s leaning against the headboard, his shirt unbuttoned and a lit cigarette in hand, doing nothing but watching as his friends ruin you.

He’d been the one to call Regulus when you came running to their house, barefoot and in nothing but a frail, white nightgown. “You’re already being good here, pup- s’no use in leaving.” He makes his way towards you, squishing your cheeks together, your lips forming an o-shape.

He blows smoke into your mouth, smirking when you cough at the burn. “Y’already gonna be punished anyway, might as well do that here- ain’t that right Reggie?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, breaking his normally composed demeanor. “Don’t call me-”

“Hush, I can’t focus when you lot keep talkin.” James' speech is slurred as he speaks up, moving his head slightly from between your legs. He pays no mind to the way Remus pumps in and out of you. His mouth is so close to where the two of you meet that you can feel his cool breath against your clit as he talks.

“S’annoying.”

You clench around Remus at the feeling, and the man in question groans, giving you a particularly rough thrust.

James goes back to work at that, humming softly as he drinks in yours and Remus’ juices. You let out a another strangled moan, instinctively trying to tilt your hips away.

Instantly Sirius’ face darkens with anger, “Uh-uh, I don’t think so puppy.” A hand shoots out to grab the base of your neck as James’ hands grip the front of your thighs tightly.

“Don’t fuckin’ run away from him- you understand?”

You nod shakily, chest rising and falling quickly as you watch him with unseeing eyes.

“Just take it like a good girl, princess.” James cooes, lightly nibbling on the inside of your thigh. You let out a startled yelp.

“What d’you say bunny?” Remus asks from behind you, hips slowing as he tries to find that spot. Trying to coax the words out of you. You whine, unable to answer until Sirius gingerly slaps your cheek, raising a sharp brow at you.

“M’sorry- m’so sorry Jamie.” Your head is spinning, an ache growing until it becomes practically mind numbing.

At this point it’s all you can focus on.

“Thought I taught you better than that pet.” Regulus chides, clicking his tongue in disappointment. He looks only slightly more disheveled than before. His hair is not neatly combed back like it was earlier, and his tie considerably loosened. His fingers dig into the cushioned arms of the chair, the veins in his forearms flexing in a way that makes your mouth water.

You lick your lips. “Sir-”

Remus shushes you. “S’ okay bunny- y’just have to make it up to him.” You cry out as he brushes against your g-spot, finally finding what he’s been looking for this whole time.

Each hit of his hips is aimed perfectly, giving you no room to breathe until you’re a gasping mess.

James’ mouth certainly doesn’t help. His warm tongue suckles at your clit, unrelenting as he brings you to that exhilarating peak over and over again.

Eventually he breaks away, wiping the wetness around his mouth with the back of his hand. A feral grin forms as he pushes the hair away from your face, cupping your teary cheeks. “That wasn’t so bad now was it? You can take a little more, right?”

Sirius answers before you can even think to open your mouth, a mocking frown on his face. “I don’t know about that Prongs- she seems a right mess already, huh? Don’t think she can go on.” He slaps between your legs, and a panicked moan startles its way out of you.

You quickly come undone, so worked up from before, but the torment doesn’t end there.

“I think you're right, Pads.” James murmurs, as he slips his fingers through the mess of your cunt, the tips of his fingers grazing the base of Remus’ cock.

It’s enough to startle a groan out of him.

Sirius grabs onto your hips, reaching around James to take control of the even pace Remus set. “C’mon pup, make a mess on Moony’s cock- be a good little cockslut for us.”

He bounces you viscously atop Remus, everyone watching intently as you become a drooling mess.

Your set your lidded gaze on Regulus, whose self-control looks like it’s seconds away from snapping.

Yet he makes no move to stop the situation.

“Come on princess- fuckin’ come for us. Make a fucking mess.” James growls into your ear, pinching your clit roughly. Tears well in your eyes, body tensing as you are, yet again, pushed off the edge.

“Fuck- such a good bunny.” Remus curses.

Sirius and James mock your high pitched cries, taking a sadistic pleasure in watching you sob at the overstimulation.

Your limbs go slack, Remus panting heavily as he fucks you through it all, his breath fanning against your neck. He kisses your temple softly and you whine, barely able to move, even as the aftershocks flow through you.

The three continue to overstimulate you, and Remus lets out a breathy chuckle when Sirius lets go of your hips, letting you fall face first into James’ chest.

“S’your turn princess. We’re not doing all the work for you- besides you still have three more cocks to go.”

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

UNEDITED VERSION

#hunnie writes ☀︎#dark hunnie ☾#sirius black x reader #dark sirius black x reader #dark sirius black #sirius black smut #james potter x reader #dark james potter x reader #dark james potter #james potter smut #remus lupin x reader #dark remus lupin x reader #dark remus lupin #remus lupin smut #regulus black x reader #dark regulus black x reader #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #poly marauders smut

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yourmidnightlover · 3 months

Text

forever?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.

warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!

a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling

two months out of forever.

two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.

in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents.

the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place.

you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely.

on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be.

they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.

so far, he’s been the opposite.

for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady.

because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light.

but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much.

the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.

the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.

you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.

those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…

you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life.

peace.

a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together.

but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door.

“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe.

“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”

you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”

“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight.

the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting.

you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls.

you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.

“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile.

“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”

“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”

you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline.

you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun.

luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting.

t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you.

the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway.

“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men.

“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”

as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips.

“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates.

in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned.

you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes.

you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with.

you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often.

you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip.

“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be.

“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.

“i don’t-i’ve got it…”

“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.

“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband.

“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”

then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins.

“i think he might mind.”

you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away.

his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.

“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.

your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you?

you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this.

your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.

and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think.

you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted.

“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly.

“but the dish-”

“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.”

“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.

he won’t hurt you.

he has to protect his image.

you’ve embarrassed him.

you’re his wife.

you’re his business deal.

you’ve humiliated him.

he’ll hurt you.

you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident.

your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth.

and then there was a knock at the door.

your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting.

he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements.

“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.

automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.

“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft.

you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was.

“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”

“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again.

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.”

“you don’t have to-”

“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.

you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you.

how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing…

“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.

“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.

“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed.

sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point.

but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad.

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luveline · 2 months

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hi! i just remembered a scene from friends where chandler says to monica it's ok she's high maintenance cause he likes maintaining her and i think this is soooo spencer and bombshell!reader coded. you're ok with writing this as a request? love u jadey

ty (ily)!! fem!reader

Spencer’s feet ache dully with each step he takes, but you have your hand in his, and you’re pulling him along with a smile. Your smile could cure anything, he thinks stupidly. It’s completely outside of his beliefs, goes against every book on medicine he’s ever read.

“Why are you frowning?” you ask, swinging his hand as you turn the corner together.

“I’m not.”

You step closer, arm stuck to his arm, nearly one body walking together against the summer breeze. “You’re frowning, Spence. You have a very obvious pout. It is so so cute.” You lean in to kiss him quickly, his heart turning to a pitter-patter under his ribs.

“I’m tired,” he explains, not wanting you to think his bad mood has anything to do with you.

“You’ve had a long day, that’s why. When we get back to your place I’ll give you an incredible foot massage and everything will be okay again.”

“I don’t want a foot massage. My feet don’t even hurt,” he lies.

“Don’t bother.” You untangle your fingers from his and wave him away. “I know all your tells, baby boy,” —he laughs through a wrinkled nose— “nothing gets past me.”

“Why’d you choose a dry cleaners so far from your apartment?” he asks. You could’ve picked the one beside work, which has a yellow pages worth of fantastic reviews. The one second closest to his place is new but raved about at length. This dry cleaners is nearly twenty-five blocks away.

“They do things exactly how I like it, I guess. I never have to worry about it when I give them my best clothes, and it’s kind of expensive if they were to accidentally ruin something, right?” You have expensive taste; you like things sturdy, fitted, and fashionable.

“Do you think I should get someone to do my laundry?” he asks.

“You can afford it. But maybe not. There’s nothing wrong with your own washing machine and a steamer.” You side eye him carefully. “Maybe I’m over the top.”

“You’re high maintenance,” he agrees. “Is it expensive, getting your clothes dry cleaned all the time? I could pay for that.”

“What? Why would you pay for it?”

“‘Cos we’re together?” He’s more worried than dry about it. “I’d like to pay for your manicures and your hair, too, but I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“And I won’t… s’kind of nice you want to though. Really nice, um.” You’re blinking funny. “I think that’s more of a husband thing. You really want to pay for me to get manicures?”

Spencer pays for lots of your stuff because he loves you. Good food mostly, but treats, clothes, anything he might think you’re interested in, actually. He likes to spoil you. You tend to spoil him back, if not with money then affection. “I like maintaining you.”

You curl your arm through his. “That’s a funny way to say it.”

He laughs at your obvious delight. “I like taking care of you,” he admits. “You like being high maintenance, it makes you happy, and I like making you happy.”

“Thank you very much,” you say, softer now as your hand works up his neck and you turn his face to you, the sidewalk and the streetlines melting away under your warm touch. “You make me happier than you know.”

His cheeks turn pink. He doesn’t need to see himself to confirm. It’s a high statistical probability.

“Kiss?” you ask, voice still soft.

Spencer walks you back nearer to the side of a building and out of the way, his hands at your neck and waist as he leans down just a touch to close your gap. He acts selfishly, perhaps, taking your hand from his face in order to hold yours in both of his without anything in the way of it. He kisses, he breathes you in, his head tilting more heavily to the side as the kiss lengthens, lingers. You’re like a flower in his hand, blooming slowly under the effects of a little heat.

“What if you pay for my dry cleaning,” you begin, a smile evident in your voice though Spencer keeps his eyes closed. Tracing the hill of your cheek with his fingers just a moment longer. “And I pay for yours?”

Spencer thumbs along your jaw. “I don’t want anything from you, just you.”

“Well, what if I treat us to some Indian takeout tonight?” you ask. “Would you eat that? Or am I enough to sustain you, my love?”

He could enjoy being taken care of in turn, he thinks.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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st4rymoon · 6 months

Text

✭ 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ✭

𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 𝐀𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: a long read btw, arguing, impact play, academic rivals, slow burn, rough sex, hate sex, language, p in v, make out sesh, unprotected sex, annoying Miguel, reader has some anger issues on the low, breath play, teasing, sexual tension, semi-mean dom, after care

・Part two! Part Three!

“WHAT?” You yelled, both your professor and Miguel looking at you in shock after your professor asked you for a one on one with the both of you.

You could scoff at the way Miguel’s lips curled up into a satisfied smile “Well you and Miguel are my best students, so it would only make sense for the both of you to do a presentation together. I can only imagine the things the both of you will come up with!” Your annoyingly sweet professor clapped.

“ wouldn’t it be better if both of us did our own? We coul-“ You tried to negotiate “Ah ah! I said group project! Now Miguel, do you have anything to say about this? Any complaints like this one over here?”

You sighed as Miguel spoke “Nope, I’d be happy to work with someone in the same range as me” he cockily spoke “Very funny, now since we’ve got this all sorted, go and talk” she smiled, shooing you and Miguel out of the classroom.

You scoffed as you pushed past Miguel “Aww come on sweetheart, you hate me that much?” He cooed following close behind you.

“Shut it” you huffed. Getting paired with Miguel was possibly the worst thing to happen since your high school prom. Miguel was the bane of your existence since the first year of college.

Of course, his good looks and brains were attractive but sooner or later you realized he was going to be a pain in your ass for the next few months of class. You met him in your first biology class, everything was going well until the first exam of the class.

Your professor said the class average was low B’s and high C’s but out of the whole class, two people got perfect scores. Could you guess who the two were?

You and Miguel.

Both of you looked at each other from across the class with the same look in your eyes saying ‘Someone beat me?’. Of course, you both got the same 100% grade but both of you were so used to being the only one on top of the class that this was more than just a score. But your egos.

You both were fully aware to not be in each other's way, only seeing each other when studying at the same place or in class. All was going well for the next 2 exams, but the 3rd one came and you couldn’t believe it.

You got a 98% and Miguel has a perfect 100%. You could see him smile at the results and you hated the professor right now. Why the hell would he show the class? It’s embarrassing, to say the least.

Miguel gave you a wink as you looked his way ever so slightly. Bursting out of the class, you could feel him behind you “2 points down” he chuckled. You wish you would’ve punched him.

And ever since then, he’s made it his life mission to ruin your day. You never got anything other than 100% again, you busted your ass studying just so he couldn’t rub it in.

“I’ll make sure you can’t get us two points down” Miguel hummed as he kept up at your pace. You could feel your blood boiling, god he’s such an asshole. “I’ll email you if I need help” you scoffed.

“Can I get your number? I won’t get the email since my inbox is always spamming” Miguel lied with a smile “fine” you muttered out your number and walked off before he could stop you.

‘Real classy, I wasn’t done talking’ popped up on your screen “Well I am” you messaged back. You were well aware it was Miguel and you didn’t need him to piss you off more than usual.

The second you stepped into your apartment you let out a relieved sigh. Oh, how you missed this place in these insufferable hours. You put on some comfy panties and an oversized hoodie.

You were laid in your living room, soft carpet under you as you finished up some of the slides for your presentation. The knock at your door was the last thing you needed, you groaned in agony as you hated the thought of getting up from your warm spot.

The knocking grew and so did your patience’s “IM COMING!” You yelled. You pulled the door open and lo and behold, Miguel. “For fuck sake man” you whined.

“Glad to see you too!” He smiled as he pushed past you with books in hand. Miguel was born with the talent of hiding his emotions, that talent was most useful here.

He took a deep breath as you opened the door. Your pretty thighs glowing under the baggy hoodie, hair a slight mess and the satisfying look of anger on your face could’ve made him harm.

“Excuse you” you hissed.

He plotted down next to your things and got straight to work. You stood in shock, did he just walk in like this was his house? “Well go ahead and get comfortable” you mocked as you slammed the door in annoyance.

“I am” he sighed as he stretched and leaned onto your couch.

The both of you bickered and sneered at each other the whole time you both worked but even then, the quality was always top-notch.

He didn’t like the way you formatted the information and you didn’t like how he took up a whole slide for a few sentences but both of you compromised. After a few hours, things were less tense, and both of you got used to each other.

“So what do you plan on doing with your major?” You asked, legs crossed and some candy in your mouth as you questioned him “Biochemist” he nodded “It’s always been a passion of mine”

“You sure do have the brains for it” you chuckled. “You don’t with the 98%” he teased. You rolled your eyes, your mood now soured as you remembered his shenanigans.

“Don’t start” you scoff as you get up to get some drinks “Hey hey I’m joking” he laughs, his hand stopping you from leaving as he holds your wrist “I know Sherlock, I’m going to get some drinks for us” you mutter with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he laughed awkwardly, his eyes watching as you grabbed two glasses of water. “So what about you?” Miguel asked “What are you doing with a chemistry major”

“Probably chemical engineering, I’m not sure yet” You shrugged as you handed him the cup. He nodded and watched you sit next to him. Miguel scooted a little closer making you stiffen, sure he was a pain in the ass but he’s sadly one of the most gorgeous guys you’ve seen.

You tried to ignore your thoughts each time he’d stretch and groan, his moans making you think about how he’d sound if it were from pleasure. He’d be vocal you thought.

“Let’s watch something on the TV” you awkwardly smiled as you grabbed the remote and turned on your TV, you laid on your stomach, forgetting you only had panties and a hoodie.

Miguel’s eyes watched you kick your feet up, your glowy legs looking perfect as you looked through whatever you were putting on.

He noticed the pink panties you had on, his tongue instinctively licking his bottom lip as he thought about how good you’d look on top of him. He can imagine it, tits in his face and pussy sleeving his cock as he fucked you full.

He was going to give himself a boner if he kept it up. He focused his eyes on the screen and sighed in relief as you sat back up. You put on your favorite show and sat next to Miguel “We’re almost done with the assignment which is good, how about a few more minutes of break and we get back to work?” You smiled. “Sure”

You felt his hand move behind you, his arm resting above the couch as he let out yet again another ‘stretch’ while his eyes looked at you through his peripheral, you chuckled. How cliche.

You smiled as you decided to make your cliche move. It was obvious there was tension between you two, whether that be anger or sexual, it didn’t matter. “Let me get more gummies” you hummed as you turned to the table beside you and arched your back slightly, an audible moan coming from behind you as your ass was on perfect display.

You sat back beside him, gummies in hand and an innocent look on your face as you offered him some. He scoffed, shaking his head and looking back at the TV. Your eyes widened as you noticed the thick bulge straining against his pants.

“Eyes up” Miguel cockily cooed as he watched your eyes closely. “I- I wasn’t-“You made a pathetic attempt to save yourself but he cut you off “Uh huh uh huh, I know” he mocked.

He smiled down at you with accomplishment, he finally made you shut up for once. “Not going to give me a snarky comeback?” He cooed. “Shut up already God, stop it” you hissed, your eyes rolling as you moved away from him.

“No no” Miguel’s voice made you shiver as his hand held your thigh “I’m playing” he pouted as he glared down at you. You could punch him right but instead, you did something you thought you’d never do.

You pushed him on the couch and slammed your lips on his. Miguel’s hands immediately wrapped around your waist, a loud moan spilling into your mouth as he finally tasted you.

It seemed like Miguel was waiting for you to do this, his hands ran up your thighs hungrily before he flipped you onto your back. You gasped as he spread your legs around his waist.

His behemoth of a body spread your legs wide as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You tangled your fingers into his hair as both of you hungrily kissed each other.

The kisses were messy and rough, teeth nipping at skin and tongues lapping at each other like two animals in heat. None of you even said a word, just heavy breaths, moans, and pure lust.

Suddenly Miguel pulled back from your lips, his eyes glaring into yours as he hovered above you. You could feel yourself getting ready for some snarky comment as you watched his lips curve into a smile.

“You kissed me first”

You groaned as you pushed him off, his hands still on your hips as he flipped you back onto his lap “hey I’m not complaining, It’s just funny since I piss you of so much” he sighed. His palm moved up to your jaw, face brushing against his hand as you took in his warmth.

He watched you lean into his palm like a cat, his body heating up as he realized how small you look in his lap. Your thighs small compared to his but still plump and pretty.

“Can I kiss you again” you shyly asked slightly afraid that he’s reject. “You don’t have to ask me, just do it” Miguel hummed as he pulled you into a kiss.

The kisses were now more sensual and soft, both of you now grinding into each other. His hand curled onto the back of your neck; the other palm pinned behind your spine.

You were glued onto his chest as Miguel’s warmth filled your senses. You’ve never been so warm in your life, the feeling making you tingly as he held you as close as possible. It felt like nothing in the world could hurt you, you felt safe.

“Please” you whispered onto his lips. He tried to not make you mad but he loved seeing you angry “Please what?” He taunts, his lips hovering over your jaw and neck but never touching you.

“Mig don’t tease” you whined as you hit his chest lightly “I’m not, I just don’t know what you’re saying please for” his arms clinging around your waist as he takes in your sweet scent.

You decided to play your games “I want you inside me mig, want to show you how much I need you” you cooed, your hand running down his abdomen and stopping just above his bulge. His breath hitched at your words, he didn’t know if you were fucking with him or not.

“Oh yeah?” Miguel watched you with focused eyes, his hands running up the sides of your thighs and squeezing your ass “You want me to fuck some manners into you? That loud fucking mouth of yours is always pissing me off” he cooed.

Loud fucking mouth? Your hand went up to smack his face in anger but he caught your wrist before you could “Don’t even try it muñeca.” He sternly said “You won’t like what comes with that”

You angrily kissed him as he pressed you flush against his aching cock, his hands pull the baggy hoodie off your body leaving you in your matching panties and bra.

“Fuck” he whispered, hands on your waist as he took in the view he’s been dreaming of since the day he met you. The amount of times he’d imagine fucking your mouth until you shut up was concerning.

You pulled his shirt off in need, throwing it behind you as you ran your hands up his thick muscular chest. He hummed at your soft hands running up his skin.

“Sit up for me?” He mumbled against your skin as he kicked off his sweats. He smiled at how obediently you did as he said “You look prettier when you do as I say” Miguel mocked.

You could care less about his words as his calloused hands pulled your panties off in need “Just shut up and fuck me” you panted. Miguel smiled as he felt your lips pepper all over his jaw and onto his lips, he could see you were just as eager for him as he was for you.

“Beg” he blurted. You ignored him as you rubbed his cock between your folds, both of you letting out moans as you felt each other's warmth. Miguel seethed, arms pinning you up to his chest “Listen”

You hated that you got turned on by the fact that he now had you restricted with just one hand as the other held your jaw up “you want the guy you despise to fuck you? You tell me you hate me every time you see me but look so eager to fuck me”

You were tired of his teasing, you let out a desperate whine, you could see his cock spring up and his tip leaking precum. But like always, Miguel likes to rile you up.

“Beg” he repeated. “Please mig please, just stop teasing ok” you cried. “All you needed to listen to was this?” He purred, hands moving onto your hips as he thrusts into you.

Miguel let out a gruntled moan as he felt your warm wet walls hug him tight, his head falling back onto the couch as he finally felt your pussy squeeze him.

He watched your eyes squeeze shut while you let out the prettiest moans “f- fuck!” You cried, the stretch making you clench even tighter around him as he held you down to his lap.

His cock was fully buried inside you in one go, he’s the biggest you’ve had in every way. It was overwhelming feeling how full you were, you could feel his curves and the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix.

“Breath chula, r- relax” he sighed. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you nodded, you took a deep breath allowing you to make it easier for him to move. “That’s it” he hummed onto your shoulder.

It only took Miguel a few seconds for him to start fucking you onto his lap, your body shaping into his hands, allowing him to use your pussy like a flesh light.

“O- Mig mi-“ you whined out, you couldn’t explain what you were feeling. Your whole body was tingling in pleasure as he rammed into you with pure force. Maybe you did piss him off a lot.

“What? You c- can’t take it? Such a big fucking mouth but can’t take my dick?” He seethed. You let out a pathetic whine at his words, your mind completely fogged in pleasure as you took all of him.

Miguel’s eyes couldn’t leave your pussy, his eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agar as he watched your pussy struggling to take his size. He hissed as you pushed him onto the couch, using his shoulders for support as you bounced onto his lap.

Your pretty moans filled his ears as you took control. Miguel let you take control for a bit, he loved watching how eager you rode him. Your body bounces on his lap, wet sounds of skin slapping echoing into the room.

“Making such a fucking mess” he huffed with a smile on his face, although he was loving this, he wanted to see you completely vulnerable. He thought maybe he was a little sick for wanting to see someone who hated him so much completely ruined under him but he loved it.

You gasped as Miguel lifted you onto the ground, your back hit the soft carpet under you as he stayed buried inside you. “Gotta fuck that stupid little attitude out honey, always disrespecting me. You’re the only one who tries to push my buttons. I love it” he cooed.

Miguel’s calloused hands bend your legs to the side, giving him full access to your tight cunt. “Go- god shi- fuck!” Miguel panted, he was a complete fucking mess.

Sure Miguel’s fucked a few people in his life, but he had no idea if it was just the thought of fucking the life out of you or how perfect your body was for him. He convinced himself it was both.

You clawed and scratched at his chest, your eyes full of tears as he brutally pounded into your “m- Mig I-“You were even more fucked out than him. How couldn’t you?

You had no clue where he got his stamina from, it felt like he’d been fucking you for hours. “Can’t believe you tried to slap me, should I return the favor?” Miguel hissed.

You nodded to his surprise “Please” you whined. “You want me to hit you?” He was surprised by your plead. He knew you’d be a freak in the sheets but you were always so aggressive with him that he expected you to hit him for even suggesting it.

“You’re always a pain in my ass but you just want to be taken care of huh?… What? You need me to pound your pretty pussy out for you to treat me with some respect?”

You nodded eagerly, if you were being honest you couldn’t even take in his words. Your pussy clenched and throbbed around his fat cock in agony but you were taken by surprise when a slap landed on your face “Use your words” he hissed.

Almost immediately you cried “Yes yes! Miguel please I nee- need it, f- fuck ah!”

Miguel chuckled, his hips angled a bit higher which allowed him to hit the perfect stop. His hand flew around your throat, his hips pounding you onto the floor as he let out animalistic moans.

“M- Mig- ah fff- fuckk!” You cried. The restriction of your breathing mixed with his rough pounds caused orgasm hit you hard as your pussy throbbed around him, the tip of his cock nudging at your sweet spot continuously.

Miguel’s eyes rolled back as he felt your nails claw at his arms, your small hand wrapped around his wrist as he fucked you balls deep. His cock plunged into your messy cunt as his balls slapped onto you. “That’s I- that’s-“ he hissed.

He thought about pulling out for both of your sakes but he’d rather just buy you a plan B. “C- can I- inside?” He seethed his eyes burning into yours as you bounced to his thrusts.

You couldn’t get a word out but your legs wrapping around his waist and your nails digging into his back to pull him closer gave him the answer. His lips crashed onto yours as he spilled inside you, his moans spilling into your mouth as his fingers dug into your hips.

He’s never had an orgasm that hard, he was sweating and out of breath as he stilled inside you. The both of you cling onto each other in fear of either of you leaving but that was on the last of your minds.

Miguel lay beside you, his arms pulling you into his as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead. “Was I too rough?” He questioned with concern as he now fully took in how fucked out you looked. “No, it was perfect” you weakly muttered as you nuzzled into his chest.

Miguel sighed in relief as your sweaty body was pinned into his. “Where’s your bedroom?” He hummed as he began to lift you into his arms “left” you sighed as he carried you into your bedroom.

“Let me clean us up and then we can rest yeah? Unless you want me to leav-“

You cut him off before he couldn’t finish “Don’t leave. Please?.” You hummed a bit worried you sounded a little pathetic.

“Wasn’t planning on it love”

#smut #marvel smut #kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara imagines #miguel ohara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x reader #moon knight smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel smut #miguel o hara #academic rivals

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yeyinde · 4 months

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when your need grows teeth | John Price x f!Reader

John's the type of man to lock his jaws around what's his, preferring instead to ruin things, puncture it full of holes, and litter it with scars, rather than let it go. It starts when you ask him to pick up your birth control—like dangling a piece of bloody meat in front of a starving dog. Of course he's going to take a bite. He thinks you ought to have known this by now.

SMUT 18+ | gratuitous smut; HEAVY breeding kink, breeding; Dom!John Price; p-in-v sex, unsafe sex; rough sex; mentions of spanking; mutual manipulation; this is roughly 10k of John Plotting and fucking you; John is: unhinged, obsessive, possessive, and Scheming. mentions of birth control tampering but nothing is followed through. No. He’s going to knock you up the old-fashioned way—by making you beg for it.

AO3 MIRROR

John has always had this desire—this awful, instinctual drive in the back of his head to knock someone up. Get them fat, swollen with his child. His.

And maybe that's the crux of it. Possession. To have something of the most rooted kind. To irrevocably change someone—their anatomy, their body, the chemistry in their brain, their status in life from them (single no dependents) to mother (mother of his child), their very atoms—and create life from the combined parts.

It's this almost fantastical beast, this unreachable dream for him.

It's his Shangri-la. His castle in Spain.

He's not under any disillusionment that this idea of fatherhood, of parenthood, is slightly skewed. That most men who want children don't feel this overwhelmingly greedy desire to fundamentally alter someone in such an irreversible way. It's not quite ownership, but it's the same ilk. A bastardised, unwanted child of it.

And it's not just this idea of claimation—to forever be the father of their child, even if neither of them stays together; a piece of him will always be there, parasitic, no matter what—but something deeper. Something a bit less—egregious.

This is, and always has been, about yearning.

John's the type of man to lock his jaws around what's his, preferring instead to ruin things, puncture it full of holes, and litter it with scars, rather than to let it go.

Marriage, he finds, is breakable. Divorce, separation. He's always on his worst behaviour in the initial stages of dating, so it's never something he has to entertain since no one ever sticks around long enough for it to be on the table, much less the menu, but the idea of it—of signing papers, of hashing out the split, of being known as ex-husband—leaves a bitter tang between his teeth. It won't do. He needs permanence. Perpetuity.

Nothing says forever quite like a child, does it?

And sure—he’s aware that countermeasures exist: custody orders, sole custody, shared; allotted visitations; divisional lines in this new age that keep the parents from ever interacting—but while you can get divorced, you can't unmake a child, can you?

The child would never write him out, either.

Where deadbeats exist, it's important to note that their counterparts do, too. The ones like him who will gouge their eyes out of their skulls before they ever let what happened to them growing up trickle down and impact their child, polluting the pool.

Simply put: John Price knows he'd be the best dad there is because he's stubborn that way.

It helps, he supposes, that he really only has so much love to give out to the world, and greedily, he stashed the entirety of it away in a box to give to his would-be wife and their child. An overwhelming deluge that promises happiness should it ever be unlocked. Pandora's box, perhaps—down to the very essence because if John Price were to ever love someone, then it's probably in their best interest to run from it, this gaping, needy chasm.

Not that it would ever be a possibility, of course—he’s much too good at compartmentalisation, in taking out his anger, his viciousness, on the ugly world he drenches himself in, the one his hands have a tangible cause and effect principle in place that will forever feed that starving beast inside of him.

Ergo—he’s a staunch supporter of the theory: happy wife, happy life. Though where those men think in a box stuffed full of emotional intimacy, flowers, chocolate, maintaining love, all-consuming and enduring, he takes it to extremes that would have them cowering a little bit. Maybe a lot.

But that's fine. He only has to make sure his family is happy. No one else matters, save a select few who have a seat at his table during Sunday dinners.

The rest, though? Spare parts.

(The ice-cold resolve in those two words is apodictic, brass bound, and he's sure if his higher-ups knew about it, well—

His chest candy would be a hole in the ground. Put the rabid dog down before it has a chance to bite.)

But that all-consuming, devouring, obsessive love he has to give, that begs to be let free, is the reason why it's so tightly leashed. Locked up in a box. Untouchable. Inaccessible.

It's why he isn't married.

Ghost once asked him why the women he dated were older. Much older. Menopausal (always). And he'd said something to the effect of it being his type. Older women who wouldn't cower away from the acrid burn of him, who wouldn't hurt their delicate little hands on his gritty surface.

But the real reason is because he knows better.

He's a starving dog, and it's just bad form to dangle a piece of meat in front of it. Especially when the hand holding it is his own.

Don't bite the hand that feeds you, and all.

(The keen look in Ghost's eyes told him that, perhaps, the man already knew the reason when he asked, and was just satiating himself with kinship—the dark, awful look on Simon's ugly mug after the dredging the underbelly of Price’s rotten, mouldering mudfloor of things unsaid spoke volumes.

They'd both nodded. Content, then. And promptly ordered a shot of whisky to drown the salivation, the hunger, from clogging their throats. Killing the urge to bite.

A pair of packless, stray dogs.)

But then he found you, and all his careful planning, all his distance, blew up in his face.

It's always been on his mind since then. Lingering in his periphery—this fevered, tantalising vision of you, round and swollen with his child.

It's unattainable, of course. A fantasy.

Though, this—you throwing up in the washroom of his penthouse, undoubtedly knocked up by his machinations—is probably because he kept that desire too close to where he hides his questionable mortality, the one that allows him to throw innocent people to their deaths, and send mothers and fathers to an early grave just so he can rip his fists apart on their bastard offspring in his own brand of catharsis that always bites back when they grow up, hankering for revenge.

He's always been good at snatching dreams out of the air, clenching them tight in his fists. Taming chimerical wants, whims, until they were docile, domesticated. Making realities out of fiction.

And really—he’s just not a good man.

He thought you'd have known this by now.

He remembers the first time he growled the words into your ear as he came, your cunt clenching around him like a vice. Desperate for it, he teased after, fingers fucking into your sloppy, leaking hole. Pushing his spend back into you. Half-drunk on the taste of you still clinging to his beard, but mostly just mesmerised by the sight of you—pretty pussy all ruined, swollen from the vicious, hateful pounding he gave it, and dipping with his cum like a faucet.

(It pissed him off—still does, really—when you waste it like this.)

Gonna fill you up, he snarled, low and wrecked. Gonna make it take—

It was a fantasy. Still is. But the way it took root in the garden of your bedroom, like it belonged—native flora, he thinks, a touch mad with it—had something ugly, oil slick, rearing up from that untouchable place in his head.

He could really blame you for it—and does. The way your ankles locked tight around his thighs, hands reaching, grabbing at his waist, clawing at his asscheeks to press him in deeper, deeper still, as he came inside of you, cock lodged right against your plug, had that untameable beast cocking its head in consideration after you danced too close to it, waking it from his long, restful slumber.

You wanted it. Ached for it. He could feel it in the way your walls tightened around him, practically starving for it. Your pretty, glossy eyes rolling back into your head. Drool running down your chin. A litany of pleas spilled from your kiss-bruised lips, begging him for it. Please, John. Please. Please—

Who was he to deny you?

Even if you made a big, flustered show of waving it off—not something I've ever imagined for myself, you know? and–and your lifestyle, what you do—is something like that even possible for us?—he saw how it curled around your shoulders, dipping its silver tongue into your ear. Germinating.

He let it. Encouraged it.

“Something to talk about later,” he indulged, reaching over for a cigar just to smother the urge to breed you stupid. To tie you to his bedposts and keep you full until your belly was swelling with more than just the absurd volume of his seed he pumped inside of you.

And, oh—

The uneasy smile on your face reeked of disappointment.

Fuck. Fuck—

John went to the washroom after that, heart pounding out of his chest, and jabbed the lit end of his cigar into his thigh to kill the fever in his veins. To rewrite the desperate, ugly howling in his head with pain instead.

It worked. Works—

Until you came to him, all watery-eyed and worried, and told him to please, please stop falling asleep with a lit cigar because you think you might just go mad if you lost him to a cigarette fire. And doesn't he see how silly it is, these burns look so bad, John, and I worry—

His teeth ached. He smiled, but it felt like a grimace. A dog holding back the instinct to bare its teeth.

“Sure, love,” he'd said, and started taking out his anger on your cunt instead, fucking you deep, and stupid. Getting you all cockdrunk, and hungry for the dream that spoiled so badly in the back of his head, he's sure a proper man would call it a nightmare. “Anything you want.”

(Brassbound. Apodictic. You know that, he knows you know that, so imagine his surprise when you come to him, all soft and tender, and ask him to pick up your birth control as if he hadn't spent the better part of two years grumbling every fucking time you took it and wasn't on the verge of tossing the damn bottle out the window, and fucking you until it took—

But—you do know that, don't you?

Well, then. Whatever his lady wants, right? Right.)

“Can you stop by the pharmacy on your way home tonight?”

He hums, fiddling with the belt of his slacks in front of the mirror. “Sure, love. You feelin’ sick?”

“No,” you murmur, sliding behind him on your way to the washroom, wearing nothing but a towel tucked under your arms. “I need my refill. For birth control.”

His hands still. A gnarled, rotted tendril curls over the edge of the cesspool, murky, ink black water splashing all over the place. “Oh, yeah? Still taking that, hm?”

You fluster. Hands waving, chock full of nervous, emotive energy you can't seem to shake off. “Well—yes. I mean, obviously.”

And he'd leave it there, let the spillage dry on the hot pavement, if you hadn't glanced back at him, all damp keenness, slightly skittish, and asked, feather-soft and utterly fragile, “right?”

Right? A question, he notes. Not a statement.

He licks his teeth. Tastes something rancid in the gaps.

“Mm. I suppose so.” He leaves it vague, but drenches it in the heavy weight of his disappointment. Anchors dragging it down. You flit around the space like a house-locked bird, slamming into the walls and ceiling as you try—blind and panicked—to find an escape. Any escape.

He finds the whole thing utterly charming. Especially when you realise he pitched himself in front of the only exit, thick, heavy hands curled around his belt, cock outlined against his slacks, already thickened, drooling in his pants.

There's gasp—wet, and sharp—as you take him in. The liquid of his eyes as his want bleeds out of his skull. The flush on his cheeks, the twitch of his cock at the mere mention of you not taking your silly little pills.

John lets it sit for a moment, taking in greedy lungfuls of your unease as you glance everywhere but at him, as if looking in his direction, breathing in this toxic miasma will give you a contact high. Infectious. Gnarled.

The little seed that started germinating blooms.

He fights back the urge to grin, all teeth. Madness staining them black.

“It's—it’s on—” and fuck, he's never seen you so unsure before, this nervous. You handle him like a wrangler, wrassling his brutish dominance until it's putty in your hands, splitting his head into pieces and galvanising the madness inside until it's scripture for you to peek at whenever you need guidance, insight into him, his essence, his being.

Your dyadic has always been built on permeance.

John doesn't think there's a single person alive who understands him as much as you do. The only person who seems content to gorge yourself on his rotted marrow like it was a delicacy.

Seeing you like this rents his resolve in two.

“It's the pharmacy near the, uh, the school. The kindergarten.”

He chokes on a groan, and thinks he tears something in his throat with the strain of keeping it down. There's blood, ash, in the back of his throat.

“Alright, love. I'll pick it up.”

You smell it, and shiver.

It's giving meat to a starving dog, and saying, dog, don't take a bite.

And so, of course he does.

John picks up your prescription, tossing it in the passenger seat like it personally offended him. And it has. Does. It's what's standing in the way between what he wants, what he craves, and there's a distinct thrum of irritation welling inside of him. One that started when he had to bark out your name at the counter earlier, and the pharmacist looked at him, and calmly, kindly, explained what it was he was picking up.

Make sure she takes them once a day. Preferably at the same time. This brand of oral contraceptive can be taken with or without food—

Fuck off, he thought—thinks, even now, glowering into the tinted window of the pharmacy.

He grips the steering wheel tight until his scarred knuckles bleach white under the strain, and sits in the parking lot, staring, unseeingly, at the shops. Pensive. Thoughtful. It gnarls over his expression until he's the picture of that grizzly-like intensity you often accuse him of. All furrowed brows and a pinched, angry twist to his lips.

There's a series of complex equations running laps in his head. He's no stranger to this process, needing to make life or death decisions in less time it takes someone to snap their fingers, or tentatively stammer out his title.

This one is more linear than the rest. One plus one, so to speak. But the weight of it is profound. Heavier, even, than deciding between the success of his mission and the life of an innocent bystander.

(But he thinks he's just selfish like that.)

In his head, he debates the ethics of replacing all of these silly little tablets that stand in his way with sugar pills.

It would be the quickest path to the end, but the risk-reward ratio ebbs and flows the more he considers things without the miasmic influence of that abomination throwing itself at the walls of its enclosure, howling in an endless cacophony of do it, do itdoit—

A better man wouldn't even have such a temptation. He supposes that's what you deserve, but he already had this particular crisis a few months after he met you, and realised that the things he wanted to do to you would undoubtedly put him on a list. Slapped so hard with a restraining order, his ears would still be buzzing.

That something about you made his jowls twinge, and his teeth ache, and no amount of stay away from her, Price; she deserves better than you was going to keep his dirty hands from curling around your throat, leaving soot-stains on your skin in the shape of his fingerprints. Brandishing ownership in burst blood vessels; a pretty collar for you to wear because as much as you like to pretend otherwise—

You're a dog just like him.

In any case, he's the best choice for you. The only one who'd burn the world just to keep you warm, and that's what you really need. Protection.

And fuck—you toy with that particular urge that has always been etched in fine lines within the walls of bones; dipping your fingers into it, and spreading it over the apples of your cheek. Everything about you prickles along his hindbrain. Renders him from a modern man with modern ideals to an animal who can only speak in growls, snarls; pure primalism, all instinct.

You're made for each other down to the bone. He's sure he could split your head apart and find that your cranial sutures are perfectly mirrored. Made in the same image: you were grown from his missing rib, and he always meant to be cradled in the brackets of your thighs.

So, crisis of worthiness aside—because there are none, not anymore—he plots. Plans. Schemes. But his machinations keep catching on the soft fibrils of your wants.

John doesn't know what he'd do if you changed your mind.

(Or, rather, he does but that's another madness to unravel with his personal therapist.)

It's with this—the slight brandishing of his uncertainty in your certainty—that he gives up the idea, pocketing it for a later date, and drives home, back to you.

He doesn't toss the bag on the counter, but sets it up perfectly, placing it as close to the edge where the bin sits under it. All it would take is a breath of wind for it to fall into the trash.

That doesn't happen, though. You stare at the white, crinkled package for a moment as he sips on his tea, quietly contemplative. With your expression hidden from him, he has no idea what might be going through that pretty head of yours. Disappointment, he can only hope. And then you're reaching for it, fingers gripping the bag tightly in your fist. He hears the paper crumble. It sparks something inside his chest. A bloom of hope that you might just throw it out. Toss it in the bin—

You turn to him instead, knuckles white.

“Thanks,” you say, and the matter is dropped.

He goes to tuck that want back where it escaped, leaving slick trails of putrefying rot behind, but—

John peeks in the vanity later that evening, but where he expects to see the little rectangular package sitting in its usual spot between his aftershave and the mouthwash, he finds nothing. Just an empty spot on the ledge, spotlit by the lack of dust. A clean square of white paint, undisturbed.

His jaw twinges. He wonders if you're hiding it from him, keeping it safe from his machinations, but then he finds it shoved in the drawer with his shaving kit, and the box of condoms he bought when you'd first started dating (for show, naturally—John had no intentions of using them and learned persuasion was your Achilles heel; that and you tended to get a little glossy-eyed whenever he growled filth in your ear, the smell of your cunt heavy on his breath).

The package is crinkled like you squeezed it tight in your little fist before you tossed it in.

You're always meticulous in the way you put things in their places. Even the junk drawer is organised, all neat.

This speaks volumes, but he's not quite sure what it says. They are still here, though. Accessible. One is missing from the pack. It dampens his mood.

He picks up his toothbrush, and runs through those calculations again to see how he can convince you to skip the one you're meant to take tomorrow. And the next day, and the next, and the next—

He stays awake as you sleep beside him, looking into how many days you can miss before your brand of birth control stops being effective.

Seven pills in a row.

He files it away, lost in thought.

The next morning, he leaves his phone open on the bedside table with the article pulled up. He kisses you awake before he leaves to shower, humming something soft under his breath.

When he returns, he finds you sitting up in bed with your knees drawn to your chest. There's something pensive about the look on your face. Paper soft, as though it would all blow away at a mere whisper.

You regard him almost cooly but something raw, fractured splits over the ravine. A waterfall of midnight black sludge rains down.

(He wonders if it tastes of the same rot, the same madness, as the basin of the untouched recesses of his head—)

“I'm working late tonight,” you murmur after a measured beat, and he can't place your tone. “Maybe we can watch a movie when I get home.”

John nods, and your eyes drop, scaling down his bare, broad chest as he breathes in the flint staining the air. Your gaze is white-hot when it bludgeons into him, feverish.

It doesn't take much beckoning at all to have him crawling toward you, towel ripped from his hips and thrown somewhere in the aether.

As he steals the madness from your tongue, his eyes flicker to the phone still sitting on the table. It looks perfectly untouched. The screen is off.

That, too, he files away.

John comes to the succinct conclusion that the only means he has in his arsenal to get what he wants—legally, and somewhat morally, anyway—is persuasion.

There's no recourse if he can water that burgeoning plant inside of you, make it seem like this is something you want, too. A family. With him.

(Only him.)

He knows that you see things quite similarly to him. Wherein love is desire. Desire is hunger. And there's nothing more profound to you than to eat the person you love alive. Consumption of every part—the good, the beautiful, the bad, the ugly, and the rotted: skin, fat, muscles, blood, and bones. All of it.

So, even if somewhere down the road you think you hate him for this, it'll be fine. He'll just consume that, too.

John Price is a tenacious man. Stubborn.

(Bullish, he hears around the barracks. Fuckin’ stubborn prick, too.)

It helps that this line of work is perfectly suited for such a peremptory drive to the finish line, no matter the cost. Utilitarian to a fault, despite his rather recalcitrant disposition. It's how he gets his way more often than not. Brutish dominance. Loutish suppression.

But a near reckless, suicidal loyalty that attracts the sort of beasts this line of work needs.

But that's work, not this. Not trying to convince you, his sugar-sweet (and viciously diabolical) lover, to bear the burden of giving him a family because society says it's uncouth (and illegal, morally reprehensible, villainous) for him to chain you to his bed to keep the darker parts of himself that want to rip into anyone who had the pleasure—pleasure that no longer belongs to them—of looking at you.

That's all for him.

(Nasty old bastard.)

And, of course, because he's ready. Everything clicks. Locks into place. There's no one else out there for him.

Really, though—it's your fault for prodding that beast in the first place. For letting inside your house, your bed. For thinking it could be tamed. And so. You should accept responsibility for it.

(Nasty, nasty—)

But just as much as you know him, he knows you. You'll give him a litany of reasons why this shouldn't happen, and none of them will be because this isn't what you want. It'll be filled with reasons why you think he doesn't.

And that simply won't do.

So, he plots. Plans.

The thing is. No one ever taught him how to hold things in his hands without crushing it.

He doesn't think he can be delicate. Gentle. There's no way to gently nudge you into this. No.

He'll convince you to yield the same way a tsunami convinces a house to move out of the way.

Buried to the hilt in your cunt, he growls gospels into your ear about this beautiful Shangri-la, this sprawling castle he has in Spain until you're clenching down around him tight, conditioning your body to come at the thought of swelling with his child. About letting his seed take root, letting him knock you up.

It's a crass image that he spits into your head—fuck you until it takes, love; breed this pretty cunt every day until you're fat and swollen—serves as the positive reinforcement to his classical conditioning. He'll turn you into one of Pavlov's mutts, salivating at the sound of him groaning into your ear as he fills your pussy up to the brim. He'll reshape you, change your wants until you only come around his cock when he's spitting his release against the plug of your womb.

And when you make to get up, letting all his spend slip from your sloppy cunt to take your pill, he pulls you closer under the guise of wanting to feel your body on his, murmuring diabolical compromises he has no intention of letting you see through.

“Later,” he rasps, pulling you closer. His mouth slots across your temple. “Just take it later, sweetheart. Later.”

“But—”

“It’ll be fine.”

And, as if you'd been waiting for that reassurance, you melt into his hands, wet putty.

(you take the bloody pill later, and he adds that to his mental calendar, adjusting the maths. He supposes he’ll just have to try harder next time.)

John's desire for you is overwhelming, all-encompassing, and he schemes around his wandering hands, bullying into your messy cunt only moments before your alarm is meant to go off, reminding you to take your pill, reinforcing that irritating little wall that keeps his come from reaching your womb.

It goes off, but he hardly hears it over the roaring in his ears, the sweet, sweet litany of moans that slip out, staining the pillow with your pleasure. He just keeps fucking you through it, growling mindlessly into your ears about how badly he wants to come inside of you. His warnings, threats, about how close he is intertwining with your desperate begging for him to come, come inside me, John is the most beautiful harmonisation he'd ever heard, and it sews itself into his marrow, polluting the ugliness inside with a new, fresh hell for him to torture himself with. That delicious pleasure-pain that drives him mad—

He fills you up, palm pressed taut to your lower belly as he spits his virile release deep into your cunt. He can feel the heavy outline of his cock against your skin, stuffed full of him, and it's this—the way he moulds your body around him, cock visible through your flesh—that makes his eyes roll back into his head. Makes the urge to fuck, to breed, to claim bludgeon into him, shattering reason, logic. He wants to change you, irrevocably. Forever. To mar you with his touch, his essence.

“Mine,” he chokes out, ugly and raw. It's a mangled mess in his throat. A threat. “All fucking mine, aren't you, love? All mine—”

His words seem to throw you into another climax, cunt clenching greedily down around him as he softens inside of you, plugging you up. You liked that, he notes, purs. The notion brands itself across his resolve, reshaping it into something that would make anyone else recoil in fear, disgust.

But you preen at this creature that bares its fangs at you, snaps wicked teeth against your jugular. Fingers threading through its hair, shushing it, soothing it, as you pull it back into your embrace, head tucked against your chest. You lull it into complacency with the heavy thud of your heart, your sweet, earthy scent.

What a pair, he thinks, and clamps his hands around your wrist when you murmur something about taking your pill now. Need to take it before it gets too late, John—

He makes his move, distracts you with his mouth, his tongue.

“Just take it after,” he murmurs into your pussy, thighs bracketing around his head. His hands pull your waist down, pressing you harder against his mouth. “Later, love. It'll be fine—”

“But, John—”

The protest dies, turns to ash, when he grunts, sealing his lips around your clit, bullying it with the rasping press of tongue until you're arching your back, riding his face. Thoughts of your silly pill are gone, swallowed by him as you gush, drenching his mouth in your slick.

And after, when you make to get up again, he pulls you close instead, voice curling around you like smoke when he tells you to take it after.

“No, love. Stay in bed with me,” he peppers kisses to your cheek, your jaw, chin, sweetening his words, and folds you into the tight embrace of his arms. “Take it in the morning. It'll be fine to miss a day.”

You level him with something that shadows the ravines in your gaze with pure, unadulterated scepticism, but as he scouts the canyons, the valleys, the pretty craters that make up the composite of your eyes, he finds no discernible trace of wariness, uncertainty. The terse line in his shoulders ease.

But while fossicking around he unearths something else. Something a bit more enigmatic, calculative, than doubt. Equivocal, slippery, it runs from him when he tries to give chase, tucking itself back into the harsh tenebrous that shades the landscape.

He hums, wanting to ask, but you sigh in quasi-acquiescence, and burrow deeper into his embrace.

“Fine,” you huff, but he tastes a purring sense of satisfaction in the air. “I'll take it tomorrow instead.”

“Good girl.” The praise slips out, low and gritty, perfumed with his heavy greed.

You shiver against him. The hitch in your throat is quiet in the bedroom, but to him, it sounds like a gunshot.

John keeps meticulous track of the empty pill slots, and notes with a sticky, resinous sense of glee that the numbers are becoming muddled, skewed. Later becomes tomorrow, and your soft acquiesce has days skipped. Missed.

You can't double up, you huff to him, mournfully slinking into the bed. It's nearly one in the morning. Technically, a brand new day. I absolutely have to take it tomorrow, John. Make sure you remind me—

There's something pointed in your tone. Something oil-slick. He nods, bites back a grin.

“Sure,” he pulls you close, breathes in the sweet, loamy scent of you—sweat and sex and the lingering remnants of your perfume, your soap—and lets it stain his lungs. “I can do that.”

You say nothing at all when he doesn't bring it up until well past midnight the next day, offering little more than an exasperated groan, and a huffy roll of your eyes, as if this was just a missed dinner with friends and not a life-changing misstep.

(The beast purrs. He places his hand over his chest, and feels the rumble under his skin.)

“Need to be more responsible than this, John,” you say, squirming in his hold to try and rush to the washroom to take that pesky little pill.

“Sorry, love,” he offers, and means none of it. Clings tighter to you. “Got a bit carried away today, is all.”

“It's not your fault—” something curls out from a dark crevasse when you look at him. “I've been so—off lately, you know? Must be the new batch. Maybe I should call my doctor.”

He stills. Body tensing, coiling. John tries to speak, but the words are ash on his tongue. He clears his throat.

“Could stop taking it.”

It crackles in the air. Hangs heavy like a stormcloud.

You blink, stunned. But it's artificial, hollow. Pulled from a wicker basket where you keep all your different skins.

“You mean—what? Stop it all together—?”

You flit in the space once more, but it's less of an injured bird searching for an escape, he realises suddenly, and more of—

A boomslang.

One rearing up, searching for the perfect place to strike.

Wishful thinking, though, because you're flustered and skittish once more, a small prey animal he isn't sure what he wants to do the most—sink his teeth into you, tear you into pieces, and devour you whole, or hide you away from the world.

“I can look for something else in the meantime,” you sound shy, hesitant, and it prickles across his skin. “But we'd need to be careful, you know. Otherwise you might actually get me pregnant.”

He tries to swallow his groan. Chokes on it instead.

“Sure, sure—” he hacks into his palm. “Of course, love. We'll be safe. I'll pull out—”

Naturally, he doesn't. Makes no effort to even try despite promising you he is.

“Not my fault your pussy won't let go of me, love,” he grumbles, hand cupping your weeping sex in his palm. The heat of you is searing. Blistering. He thinks he could happily melt inside of it for the rest of his life, and leans down to whisper his devotion into your come-slicked folds, the bitter tang of you, of him, admixing on his tongue. An elixir he could drown in.

You huff at him after, all glossy-eyed and sex-drunk, and tell him to please try harder, John, I'll have to get plan b tomorrow—

You don't, but the threat of it, the possibility, lingers in the back of his mind, souring his thoughts.

Next time, and I'll have to, John, you say, featherlight, lips pressed against the head of his cock. A warning, a goddamn tease—

His voice is strained, pinched. “Of course, love,” and he guides your mouth back to his cock, letting the matter fall into pieces when you suck on the sensitive head, tongue licking, coy and kittenish, over his frenulum.

It's only later, when watches you swallow down his come, that the beast slinks out of the shadows, pocketing the fragments.

You're off birth control—barely any scheming words of whispered concern needed—but the idea of you taking a little pill to wipe away his efforts has him pulling back. Recalibrating his plans.

He decides on a different route to the same end.

Damnation at your own hand.

John, for his credit, does begin to pull out after that—albeit, with a great deal of agonised reluctance—and instead comes all over your pretty face.

With thick ropes of his pearlescent spend dripping down the apples of your heated cheeks, he doesn't think he's ever seen a sight more beautiful than this.

And one with more opportunity.

Slowly, he swipes at it with his thumb and then promptly brings it down, hard, on your clit. You flinch, mewling at the overstimulation, and the threat he brings so close to your raw, unprotected sex. It's dangerous. This thin line he dances along could snap at any moment. Could rain hellfire and fury over his broad shoulders, unmake all the progress he'd steadily built up.

He walks the precipice, anyway. He pulls his hand away, and brings two fingers up to curve over your cheeks. His thumb, stained with your slick and his come, slides across your bottom lip.

The pout you give him—all wet-eyed lachrymose—has his spent cock twitching against his sticky thigh. “Fuck, love. Gonna send me to an early grave if you keep starin’ at me like that.”

“You're cracked,” you slur around his thumb. In retaliation, he digs it into your tongue, and preens—full of nasty, gnarled satisfaction—when your eyes flutter, rolling into the back of your head at the taste.

With this brief distraction, he drops his come-stained fingers to your mound, and rubs along the swollen rim of your hole. Just touching, pressing. A tease, a whisper.

You tense. “John—” it's muffled around his thumb, and he isn't sure if it's a warning or a plea.

He pushes the tips in, barely to the first knuckle, and just pets around your rim.

It's a battle of wills, now. “No more than this,” he promises, and the undercurrent of his threat rents the air. Makes you bristle.

You always loved a challenge—especially coming from him.

“Just the tip?” You tease, spittle running down your chin. Your eyes are dark—midnight skies, ink black—and he's struck by the afterimage of himself in those pools. Made in the same image.

He grunts, slides into the first knuckle, and scissors them apart.

“John—” it's breathless. Your teeth spear his thumb, tight around his bone. He wants nothing more than to have you bite down hard, scar his bones with the gnawed meteors of your desire. Your desperation. “Fuck—please—”

You give in so prettily, and he barely has a moment to think about how quick it's been when you angle your hips, hand falling to grip his wrist tight as you slide down his fingers, all the way to the last knuckle.

You clench around him like a vice. A pretty bow. He fucks you with his fingers, meeting your shallow thrusts with ones of his own, slamming viciously into your pussy as he coos adorations into your ear.

With his other hand, he reaches down and fists himself over your bare mound, pressing the tip against your clit where it weeps prespend over your flesh. His thumb sweeps across what spills out, dragging it back down to your sopping hole, pushing it inside.

It's probably not enough to reach your womb, to get you pregnant, but he clings to that tantalising fantasy as he drills his fingers into you until you come, breathlessly begging him to fuck you harder, to fill you up—

He isn't even fucking you with his cock, and you still beg him for it.

John pushes the tip into your slit, fingers still buried deep inside of your throbbing pussy, and groans with the force of his release. It makes him dizzy, almost nauseous with it, filling his head with nothing but the sweet, wounded sound of your moans filling the room, and the wet squelch of his fingers pulling out of you.

When he catches the threads of cognisance in his fingers once more, he leans back on his haunches, chest heaving, and brands the messy sight of your pussy fluttering, clenching around nothing, as his spend drips down your slit, over your hole, and pools in the sheets below.

He's not sure if heaven exists, but he knows the sight of you, breathless and whimpering on his bed, is the closest a man like him will ever come to seeing it.

The push-pull of this little game stretches on.

Price likes to see just how far he toe the line before you're whimpering into the sheets, telling him don't, John, don't come inside me, I'm not anything, John—and he's ripping himself away from the tight clutch of your wet, hot cunt, and coming all over you.

The illicit tease of barely pulling out in time, and then scooping up the mess he makes on your face, your breasts, your belly, your ass, lower back, thighs, and spooning it into your pussy until it's a fixture in your bedroom ritual.

And maybe it's the threat of it all, of playing such a dangerous game, seems to cudgel under his skin the most, ripping apart the thin veneer of that man he once pretended to be—righteous and good—shedding it off with each hiccupped gasp you make when he presses his come-slicked fingers inside of you, murmuring guttural words of affection in the shape of impish mockery (want it bad, don't you, sweet thing; so fuckin’ greedy for it, love—).

He likes it the most when he can fuck you stupid on his fingers. Cockdrunk, and come-starved (because you are, of course; he hasn't come inside of your cunt in weeks, and doesn't miss the mournfully pitiful whines you give when he pulls out, depriving you of the pleasure of feeling him come inside you), you're too blissed out, swimming in pleasure, to think about what he's doing.

In fact, he doesn't really give you much of a chance to think at all.

The next few weeks are filled with him fucking you each night brutally, viciously, snarling low in your ear about how bad he wants to come in you, stuff you full, and then keep you plugged up all night with his cock that it takes, and then pulling out right before, committing the sight of your betrayed expression to memory where it'll sit like a trophy when you finally break.

You make an appointment with your gynaecologist, and circle the date on his calendar.

John notes it down. Tucks it away.

And then he amps up the pressure.

John's fingers root behind your knees, pushing your thighs apart as he settles between them. His gaze drills into your bare cunt, slick and wet, and so ready for him. Eager for it.

He'd counted the days, and knows that if there's ever the absolute worst time to have unprotected sex, to come inside of you, is now.

Which, of course, means he has to. The clause in that is ironclad. Apodictic.

“Bit dangerous,” he rasps, and lifts your leg up, resting your ankle on his shoulder. You fluster beneath him, panting and pretty, and fuck—he’s not pulling out of your pussy tonight at all. “Should I pull out?”

It's a tease. A test.

He reaches down as he says the words, gripping his cock and bringing it down against your wet heat. The bare, blunt head of his cocks slaps against your clit, and you arch, keening. Nails bite into the thick muscles of his biceps, and he leans into the sharp sting. Letting it ground him. Centre him.

This will be your cacoëthes.

He's been depriving you for weeks, and John knows that you're wanting for it. Desperate. The little twitches your hips give, as if begging him to fill you up, are proof enough of how much you want this.

This. The dream he dripped into your ears, hot oil congealing over your frontal lobe; infectious and thick. You can try to chisel it off, but the pollution is already damning. Ruining.

You want this. He wears the axiom like armour.

And you beg for it—eyes shaded in gut wrenchingly beautiful lachrymose—and John snuffles closer, inching the weeping head of his cock into your tight, warm heat.

The sight of splitting you open is something he never grows tired of. Something that, without fail, makes his balls ache. His chest thrum. Blood turns to ichor. To wine. He's drunk on the contrast made between you—a garish chiaroscuro of your pretty pussy, soft and sickly sweet—almost nauseatingly so—swallowing down the fat, girthy length of his cock. The thick streams of veins running along the flushed, heavy shaft against your puffy, soft folds is almost hideous. Sinful. He can't equate it to anything else except corruption. The horrific beast sullying the princess.

And fuck—

The thought alone makes him throb.

He's sullied you plenty, he reckons, and yet you always look so sweet. Especially now, when your rim is stretched taut around the thick of him, pussy squeezing, clenching around him in a vice, as if you weren't sure to push him out or pull him deeper.

John decides for you. Opting instead to push your knees down to your chest, nearly brushing your ears, and follows with the bulk of his body until he feels your breath rush out of your lungs. You struggle for a moment, gasping wetly into his ear as his weight—every bearish pound of it—rests on you in the perfect mating press. Your bite into his biceps, keening prettily into his ear as he bullies the full length of his cock into you. Spears you open. Splits you apart.

He can feel you gush around him, drenching his groin and thighs with your slick.

Like this—chest to chest, forced to breathe in the same air, the same madness—he likes to just stare at you, taking in the heat simmering under your skin, the sweat beading along your temple, the pinch in your brow as you struggle to adjust to the sheer width of him cudgelling you open. A battering ram you're forced to make room for.

He takes it all in, each flicker of emotion, each heaving gasp. Burns it into his memory. Lets it soften the iron around his heart. Keeps it there, nestled in the cradle of his limited love, held aloft by indelicate, bearish hands. This sweet thing.

He can't wait to ruin it.

If these weeks leading up to this were lovemaking, fucking, then this, this, is mating. Animalistic. Primal. He pushes in as deep as he can, until the tip kisses the ripened seal of your womb, and grinds his hips cruelly into the cradle of your thighs.

Your nails leave bloodied indents in his flesh. A scar he'll proudly bear the mark of. A tattoo of the time when he turned you into something new.

His balls are soaked. The sheets, too. He mocks you for it, a rasping growl lodged deep in his throat, taunting you about how fucking wet you are for him. How badly you need it.

“Gotta plug you up, hm?” He grunts, and sets a pace that serves only to accentuate the sloppy, messy squelch of your cunt.

His cock pistoning into you, alternating between deep, full thrusts that knock the air from your lungs, and heavy, slow plunges meant to badger the blunt head of his cock against your walls.

You seem to like it best when he shifts his weight between each thigh, content to just grind into you. Make you feel every inch of him. You cling to him, yowling in his ear about how good it feels, how much you love this, love his cock—

The thick bed of wry, umber curls on his chest, stomach, and groin grow slick with sweat from the intensity of it all, from the shared heat. Pressed tight against you, he feels every quiver. Every flinch. Each moan is made known in a slight reverberation across his skin before he hears it.

Drenched in sweat, glued to you as he fucks you into the mattress, John feels very much like the beast making a house out of a twisted whim in his head. Feverish, sick, he drives into you with the single minded goal of filling that home up with three. Then four. Five—

As many as you'll let him.

And he almost loses himself to that thought alone. Dancing sugar plums that make his balls tighten. He stems the flood by pulling out of you, letting his heavy cock slap against your sticky, soaked cunt as he heaves into your hairline, sucking in the heady loam, the humus, of your scent.

The whimper you make when he pulls out of you sounds like a wounded animal, and the noise tickles across his hindbrain. His jaw aches. He bites down on a snarl as you thrash against him, mindless with the need to have him inside of you. It brings a nasty, vicious curl to the ends of his mouth, and he doesn't even bother trying to tamper it down. John lifts his head and lets you see his foaming muzzle, drooling with thick globes of saliva.

“Stay still,” he growls, low and dangerous. It's as much of a warning as it is a command, and the way you react, tensing, coiling tight—the flash of unease. Shock. And then the need. Achy, heavy. He feels it against his jugular when you shiver, moaning his name into the space between you where it reeks of desperation.

To soften the submissive tremble in your jaw—and maybe to temper down the challenging talons sharpening in your gaze—he nuzzles his cheek against yours, peppers wet kisses to your skin. He licks across your jaw, bites down on your flesh.

He tastes salt and sin on your skin.

(His eyes roll so far back into his skull he thinks he might get lost.)

“Gonna cum on your pretty cunt if you don't stop squirming, love.”

And John loves you most for your waspish intelligence—the ire smouldering in your throat. The way you bite back just as hard, never afraid to bear teeth when he snarls. He doesn't think he could ever love someone too soft—not without tearing them to pieces. To shreds.

But you wear plush, tender conchoidal skin over jagged, rough obsidian. He'll ruin himself if he ever tries to rip you apart.

Like this, though—you melt.

All that keen, vicious intelligence snuffed out. His scheming Cleopatra tamed on his cock.

Your heels dig into the back of his thighs, urging him closer to your sex. “Come on, John, just fuck me, fuck me already—”

(Tamed, though, perhaps being a misnomer.)

He huffs into your neck. “Impatient little quean.”

It gets him a sharp bite to the tip of his ear, and the floor roars so loudly in his veins, he gets dizzy from it.

“Fuck—”

He's pressing back into you again, into your warm, tight heat, and it's nirvana kissing his nerves. Liquifying his spine. He rolls into you with a weighted groan, buried to the hilt once more.

But even with the respite, he knows he won't last.

John needs you fucked stupid, docile and soft just for him, and sets out to do just that. Pounding into you with a spiteful twist of his hips that he knows will leave you a little sore, and tender tomorrow. But the idea of spreading your puffy, achy folds apart and soothing the slight hurt with his tongue for hours until you're sobbing into the cushions quells any hesitation that rears, begging him to slow down.

Go easy on your pretty cunt.

(As if.)

John batters into you until your eyes glaze over, and your chin, cheeks, smear with drool. Until the challenge in midnight black melts into submission. Docile, and malleable. Perfect for him to mould. Shape.

Reshape.

He glues to you, touch starved and tactile, and basks in the liquid heat that blooms from deep within you.

“Gonna cum soon,” he snarls, broken by the heave in his chest as he fucks into you, starved. “Gotta pull out, love—”

You're gripping him tighter, anchoring him to your body. You haven't come yet. Something he dangles in front of you like a threat.

He watches the slow crawl of realisation crest over your messy face, and thinks he falls just a little bit more in love with you at the sight of your little pout.

Loves, even more, the way it breaks apart when he pounds into you harder, viciously, watching drool dribble off your chin, and reason leak from your ears—

“Please, John—” the sound of your whimpering has him grunting, head dizzy with the saccharine sweet taste of it on his tongue. “Please, please—come inside me. I–I want you to–to fill me up—”

“Yeah?” He taunts, mean and breathless. “Want me to come inside your sloppy cunt? Dangerous, ain't it? Jus’ might take, sweet thing. Is that what you want?”

You're howling a litany of sin into his ear, desperation drenches each clamour of his name, each orison uttered, begging him to come, to fill you up, and then—

“Fuck—I want it so bad—” his head is filled with static. Whitenoise. “Want it to take, John—”

He comes inside of you, cock pulsing so hard it feels like a sob. Filling you up. Wishing on all the stars that it takes—

As a reward for your good behaviour, he spreads you out over the sheets, and growls his approval into your sopping pussy, drenching himself with the taste, the smell, of you, promising to wear it like a perfume so everyone knows how good you are for him. Him, alone.

(His, his, his—)

When you come, you nearly smother him, and he thinks he sees a glimpse of nirvana in baby soft yellow before he's pulled back by your shaking hands brushing the hair off his sweat-slicked forehead.

“Are you okay, John—”

He rolls you under him, fucking into your drenched pussy like a man starved. That tantalising vision glues itself to his hindbrain, so close he can scent the fresh dew of fresh milk, and warm bread in his nose. Feel the bump of your stomach.

He's almost angry about it, about being ripped away from that dream, and takes his aggression out on your sloppy, leaking cunt. The way his come trickles out, staining the mattress below and the back of your thighs has him growling darkly into your nape.

“Keep it in,” he snarls, words sharpened on the whetstone of his need. “Keep it all inside, love.”

“Ah, John, John—” something falls from your split-slicked lips, and his fingers bite into your hips. Punishment for the slurred backtalk.

“I'll spank your ass if any of it leaks out—”

It does. Of course it does.

He bends you over his knee, and slaps his broad, rough palm over each cheek ten times before deliriously shoving two thick fingers into your sloppy cunt, stuffing his come back inside your tender, swollen hole, rough and mean, as you howl, squirming in his lap about how you promise you'll be good next time, John, please—I'll keep it all in, I swear, I—

“You fuckin’ better, love.” He groans, and thinks about cumming on your messy face, all slick with sweat, and drool, but decides against it. A waste, he thinks, and leans over you to shove the thick, twisting length of his angry cock inside you to the hilt just spit his release against your seal once more.

“That was…” You're still panting against his chest, eyes dazed, and body laxed. Melted wax over his chest. “Intense,” you settle on after a beat.

There's a hiccup in your breath when he hums, chest rumbling with the sound.

“Mm, but you liked it, didn't you?”

Of course you did. Of course. The evidence of it is drying, tacky and slick, on his groin, his thighs.

You burrow into his side, peeking at him from over the thick bed of wry curls that clot over his chest. “You're fucking me like you haven't in years, John. Makes me wonder if you have an agenda.”

He considers your words. The weight of them. Wonders just how much you've clued into, but huffs when he catches the same look in your eyes as the one reflected in his own.

Cheeky little—

“Can't I just want to fuck you? Not everything has to be about schemes, love.”

The oil of his lies, the sticky resin of his evasion makes you huff into his skin.

In all his meticulous planning, he'd picked up several books on this particular topic, and scoured every available, reputable, site he could find. John knows what to look out for by now, and keeps a keen eye on you—one that very quickly dips into obsessiveness, but you're kind enough to call it overbearing.

Jesus Christ, John, why are you asking me how many times I pissed today?

He just needs to wait things out.

But rather irritatingly, he's called away overseas for the next week.

Ah, well. He'll have to try harder next time.

He arrives in Heathrow mid-morning, and follows Laswell into the office. There's a mountain of reports to fill out—things that, rather irritatingly, require his signature—and resolves to spend the rest of the day hunched over at his desk, even though there's an itch in the back of his skull demanding he go home.

It is always like this, though—both the post-mission ritual of banal paperwork that seems almost comical considering what he'd just done, and the undeniable urge to flee back into the sanctuary of your shared home.

His bones ache for it.

Laswell huffs when he lingers by the exit, and he swallows a groan.

While he was away, you'd been silent. Moreso than usual.

Where he'd have expected an update on what was going on—the mundanity of your life that he clings to when the beast in his head whets its talons a little too sharp, digs into a little too deep—you’ve gone silent. Not radio. Not completely. But the information you give is sparse. Cagey.

You don't tell him about the visit to the gynaecologist, offering nothing but a quiet hum into the receiver, all blase and nonchalant, and a simple, equivocal: “good.”

He tucks it away, lets the matter drop.

If he timed things correctly—barring your impish prevarication aside—then something will begin to show soon. You would have mentioned something. Some nominal change to your physical well-being, but when pried, pressed, you huff.

“I'm good, John. When are you coming home, anyway?”

He raps his knuckles on his desk, still smarting from the punches he'd thrown recklessly this past week, too keyed up to let his anger simmer instead of boil, and thinks. About you. About this.

A week isn't a lot of time—he’s been called away for months in the past—but this feels like it's lingering. Time stretched and distorted. Elongated. And a part of him feels chipped, fractured after touchdown.

It wasn't as if this particular assignment was any more, or less, dangerous than the ones he went on before. If anything, it was comparatively mild. Muted. He honed into his training, and did his goddamn job. And yet—

Yet.

You lived in the spaces he occupied. The air he breathed. The water he drank.

He brought you with him, something he's never, ever, done before. Perched pretty on his shoulder, he heard your voice in his head with every step he took, every radio call.

But it was hallucinatory. Chimerical. You weren't there, you were here, but the problem lies in the lack of a divide that usually bifurcates the world into two fractions: his job and you.

It eats at him.

He brought you where he's never taken anyone before. Never let them in.

His thoughts were asunder. Pulled in all directions, but the centre was always you. His compass pointing north. He wants you. Needs you. His whole being has been recalibrated with the needle aimed toward you.

An alert on his phone shakes him from his reverie.

He reaches for it, slides his hand across the lockbar. The notification pops up. A message from his bank.

His card—the one he gave you, the one you've used all of once to buy a chocolate bar when he gruffly, surely, complained about you not spending his money—has been used.

Curious now, he opens his app, eyes scanning the threadbare purchases—all mostly interest fees and service charges, bar one. It was recently used at a drugstore for under twenty dollars.

He doesn't know what this means, what you're playing at. He makes to text you, but he gets an email next.

Thank you for your purchase; here is your e-receipt.

His heart does something strange in his chest. Turns in on itself. Goes all askew.

Not only are you using his card, you're using his account, too. He clicks it, eyes scanning through the purchases (only two), and blinks.

A card, and—

His want takes the shape of a hand, presses against his jugular.

—a pregnancy test.

He knew when he started this game that this was, of course, the inevitable outcome, but having it here, right in front of him—in that sneaky, noncommittal way you always do things; behind his back, and in the dark, like you enjoy watching him try and sniff out the truth—has his belly knotting up. Churning.

A pregnancy test.

Fuck—

(and out of all the ways to tell him, you cheeky little—)

He's up out of his chair before he's even aware that he's standing.

“Laswell,” he gets out, and can't be sure how his voice is so measured when his head is being shredded into pieces. “I'm out for the rest of the day. This whole bloody week, too—”

“Something bad happen?”

His hands shake when he pulls his jacket on, slips his car keys into his hands. “No. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm going to be a father. A bloody dad—”

It's on that sentiment when his voice breaks. Shatters. He clears his throat, blinks furiously. Fuck. Fuck. It's happening—

Shangri-la sits in his fist, taking the shape of an e-mailed receipt.

In his periphery, he sees Simon's head come up. Watching him. Measured.

Laswell, too, eyes him with a degree of wariness. He supposes to them this means the end of everything.

She breathes in. “Tuscany would be my choice.”

“Oh?” He tears his eyes away from the screen, gracing her with a steady, unflinching look. “Was thinking something a bit more local. Liverpool.”

It gets a scoff, one full of disgust. “She'll divorce you within the year.”

“I'm having a baby, Laswell. Not getting married.”

“Oh, no?” It's a challenge. “I seem to recall something about someone being a proper gentleman, or was that just the lie you told your unofficial missus?”

“We'll get married. That's not up for debate—” an intern makes an alarmed face, like perhaps it ought to be. Had he not been holding nirvana in his hand, he might be a bit more cautious with his madness. Too bloody bad. “Wherever she wants—Tuscany, Udaipur, fucking Siberia. I don't care. What I’m a bit more concerned with is my expectant wife.”

“Soon-to-be,” she volleys, just because she knows it's the sort of thing that will itch under his skin.

“Already is, Laswell.” He gripes, flat. “Or damn near close to it.”

“If she knows what's good for her, she'll say no.”

“Lucky me, then, that she doesn't.”

Lucky him, indeed.

On his way out, Ghost utters a heated congratulations to him, and John can see his gaze is absent. Turned inward, mind whirring. Reeling. He can hear the gears grind from where he stands, and if the ink-black madness in his lieutenant’s drifting, pensive eyes means much of anything, then John sends a silent hail mary to whatever unlucky person was misfortune enough to unleash the muzzle on that particular dog.

Well. It's not really his problem. Until it is. Until it becomes one. But since it's not something that'll impact him in the next five minutes, he tucks it away. “Thanks.”

He doesn't linger. Doesn't, really, even remember the ride home, head buzzing with thoughts that keep twisting around themselves, driving him mental. Things like, is it real? what if you were joking. what you weren't?

Oh, fuck—

You better not be.

But you wouldn't. You're conniving and wily, but you're not cruel.

This is happening, then.

You've been playing house with matches inside of a tinderbox. He shouldn't be surprised when it all goes up in flames, in smoke, but as he walks through the door, and glimpses the pregnancy test perched innocently on the counter beside a card—congrats, daddy (and the caricature of a man in a pinstripe suit nearly makes him gag)—he feels all the maligned pieces inside of crack.

It shifts—

You walk out, hand cupped protectively over your lower belly. Eyes gleaming like a wild cat crouched low in the tussocks surrounding the savannah, watching him an eager sense of anticipation, excitement, and just the slightest edge of what he can only imagine the unfortunate mate of a black widow sees before it's consumed. Spare parts.

It thrums inside of him. Ignites this wicker basket he calls a heart until it's cinder. Ash. Soot. He breathes it in. Tastes you on his tongue.

John doesn't have the words. Can't think beyond the steady brag of his burning heart.

His. His.

—and then it all falls into place.

Yours.

He dotes on you with an almost unhinged devotion, murmuring stilted, gruff words of muted affection into the shallow bump on your belly. Ones that you, politely, pretend not to hear.

A new bedtime ritual, one he adheres to with an almost obsessive need.

Until it becomes too much.

“Go and get my prenatal vitamins from the washroom, please. I just need five minutes without you smothering me, you stupid bear of a man.”

“You love it,” he grumbles, but acquiesces, giving your small, barely there bump a pat. “I'll be back soon.”

“Oh, no… please take your time.”

Despite the prickle in your tongue, your eyes are soft. Warm. Melting him just a little more.

John pulls away, and doesn't even pretend the reluctance to be apart is feigned.

“It's in the drawer,” you call, voice stretched. Echoing. “Next to your shaving cream.”

He pulls the drawer open, scanning the contents briefly, before finding the purple bottle in the back. Why you chose here of all places to put the bloody things—

His knuckles knock against the old box of condoms, tipping it over. There's a strange rattle as it falls, and his brows furrow at the noise.

Curiously, he reaches for it. Shakes it as he picks it up. The same sounds spill out. He pops the flap of the box open, peering inside, and—

A gruff chuckle crackles in his throat.

Inside the old box of condoms—the ones he never bothered to throw out, or use—is an accumulation of all the pills you'd meant to take.

His jowls ache. He rubs at his jaw with his hand, and feels the skittish patter of his heart thudding out of his skin. Madness in his veins.

John closes the drawer with his knee, and then tosses the box of condoms in the bin, leaving it for you to find later when you're inevitably wracked by another wave of morning sickness. A little shred of vindication for this little game you made him play.

Though he supposes turn-about is fair play, and the number of pills in the box is less than the months he spent scheming for this vision of his.

In the back of his head, the beast purrs.

“Do we need to play these games again for the next one,” he rasps. “Or can I just fuck you until it takes.”

You blink at him, wide and owlish. Full of faux innocence as you coax the beast out of hiding. “I don't know what you're talking about, John.”

More games, then. He thinks he might crack open your ribcage and rest his weary head on the frantic beat of your heart.

“Mm, don't know what I'd do without you,” he says, guns aching. He reaches for the pack of gum (no smoking around the baby or you'd toss him off the balcony), and pops a spearmint into his mouth. “Might live longer, I reckon, but—”

Your elbow digs into his side. “You sure about that?”

He just kisses your crown in response, and places his heavy, scarred hand over the curve of your belly. The beast inside purrs, content for now. Satiated.

When he looks into your midnight eyes, he finds your own beast slumbering away.

A match made in a tinderbox, he guesses, and kisses you until you're dizzy. His very own Shangri-la sitting pretty inside his bed, nestled in the castle in Spain you helped him build.

Will help him fill.

#this was supposed to be posted earlier but i was too busy watching dead meat #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #this was a) not thought out and b) def not edited #Unhinged John Price is my roman empire #call of duty fics #cod fics #captain john price smut

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jksian · 4 months

Text

02 - You up? (m)

"Shut up and ride me, yeah?"

pairing: best friend Jungkook x inexperienced reader

genre: fwb, f2l, smut, angst and fluff

w/c: 3.8k

warning: phew well... teasing, netflix and chill y'k?, mentions of his tattooes, mentioned about the movie 'after' for once, mention of infidelity (I mean Jk's ex!), mention of a threesome🙊,overstimulation, fingering, sucking, reverse cowgirl oops, protected sex (jk uses protection, jk is smart, be like jk), marking, cum play?, use of vibrator👀, ✨SQUIRTING✨, everything is very wet wet, praises and kisses😍, intimacy!!!, crying (out of pleasure), little argument, JK is a soft dom because soft!dom supremacy!! and that's it, I think, also it's not edited!

a/n: okay so, I have found a very similar video of there first smut scene here, when he was fingering her. I wanted to share it with you guys. I was hesitant at first but with all of your votes being positive, I have the courage to do it, I think.

| Series masterlist | Masterlist |

When Jungkook asked you to hang out with him, you knew how it was going to be.

You under him, or in some cases, him under you.

In both cases, his dick would be buried deep inside of you.

When you got the massage ‘you up?’ it was inevitable what was the intention behind that. Still, your oblivious self made you sit here on his bed and scroll through hundreds of series in Netflix to choose which one to watch. You liked to make yourself dumb and naïve intentionally.

Ignorance is pure bliss. Indeed.

It wasn’t something out of the ordinary for you to found Jungkook’s hand caressing your naked thighs as his hands soon travels all over your exposed skin, before they found their shelter in between your legs.

Classic Netflix and chill version.

At first, it was just an ordinary evening where two friends hang out and watch some movies together, but your relationship with Jungkook wasn’t ordinary. What kind of relationship you had with him, anyways? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? Situation ship?

Nah. You both made it clear that you guys will remain friends no matter what, even though you heart wanted something more than that, you buried that desire deep inside of your head.

The movie ‘after’ played in his laptop, as you made yourself comfortable and took a seat in-between his legs, leaning your back on his chest.

Everything was good until the male protagonist started eating the female protagonist out in the movie, that scene made you shift uncomfortably in his hold.

Jungkook’s hand, which was rested on your thighs previously started rubbing soothing circle there, his face too close to your neck, almost nestling in it.

You breath hitched when his hands travelled up towards your torso, lifting your shirt a little to feel the soft skin there.

You whimpered a little, unexpectedly, when he twisted your nipple in between his fingers, rolling and squeezing the soft flesh and ravishing in the euphoric feeling.

He always loved your tits. Even though they were not as huge as every other boy fantasized about, they were enough. They were real. Whenever you expressed your slight insecurity about them, he was quick to comfort you, complementing about their shapes and how soft and perfect they were or how they always brought comfort to him. You found the later one, quite odd.

“What are you doing–,” Your voice was faint, merely able to held back the moan before it escaped from your throat because of the luscious touches of him.

He chuckled at your innocence or better, false innocence and brought your body closer to him, “Just want to touch you, may I?” His lips brushed against your earlobe before gently sucked on it.

You felt arousal coming out and ruining your panties further. The damage was already done, nothing to do about that.

You nodded and he didn’t waste any time and lifted your shirt up until your tits came to his vision, made it harder for the men behind you to breath.

One of his hand sneaking its way into your shorts, flickering your sensitive bud over your panties.

“W-we were supposed to watch the movie.” You cleared your throat and tried to act nonchalant but the quaver in your voice indicated otherwise.

He chuckled again, knowing very well the effect he had on you. “Is that so? But, I want you –,” He turned your face towards him, with his dark yet full of stars in his eyes, stared right back at you, “Now.”

His eyes flickered to your lips as his own tongue swiped over his lower one, licking your lips in the process before going back to your eyes.

You felt overwhelmed, with the amount of intensity he held in his eyes, at the way he touched you with his hands. Sinistery yet heavenly.

His lips crashed on yours, lips moving in sync, like they were made for each other, made to kiss and fold like this for forever.

You lips reminds him of the delicate caresses of a brush on canvas, where vibrant hues adorn the surface, creating it as beautiful and whole.

His fingers kept on pinching your nipples and massaging your tits at the same time. You couldn’t help but whimper in his hold, turning your face to moan which you were holding back. “Look at that, how wet you are.”

He whispered into your ear, warm breath hitting the side of your face as he started kissing your jawline, making his way to your neck. Alternating between kissing and gently sucking, he ensured that by the end, your body was adorned with an array of colors, colors of him, creating a vivid and captivating masterpiece.

“You’ve been grinding against me, so, isn’t it obvious?” Futile attempt to be sassy at that moment, especially when you couldn’t help but moan at every flicker of his finger on your clit.

“So you’re admitting it that I made you this wet, hmm?” You could see the cocky smile on his face even though your eyes were shut from the pleaser he was giving you.

Jungkook was good at many things but, knew it even better when it comes to using his fingers on you. He was familiar with your body as if it were the back of his hand.

He instructed you to lift your hips and pulled of your shorts along with your panties.

You heard him cursed under his breath when you spread your legs wide for him, gave him a glimpses of your glistening pussy.

He moaned into your neck when his finger slipped easily into your pussy, feeling more of your essence leaking on his finger. Your drenched pussy stuffed with his finger, “You’ve got a pretty little cunt, baby.”

The way your cheeks heat up was embarrassing, but you didn’t care the slightest and let the moans out freely.

Your eyes rolled back when he started pumping his finger without any mercy, your cunt clenched around his thick fingers adorned in various tattoos, stretching you out perfectly.

He groaned breathily into your ear at the squelching sounds, echoing through out his room. Your rested on his shoulder, eyes shut from the overwhelming sensation when he curled his fingers and hit the right spot.

“Oh fuck! K-keep going please –,” You pleaded, voice cracked as you weren’t even able to form a complete sentence.

“Please what, baby?” He still had time to tease when you were squirming and twisting under his hold, you wanted to smack him hard on his head but you decided to play it smart. Because, getting your release was more important than letting your ego win, especially when the men was so hot and called you ‘baby’. Wait…does he called you baby?

“Stop teasing and let me cum, Kook.” The way you called him that… should be illegal. You knew how he liked being called ‘kook’ and you used that to your advantage.

He grumbled and thrusted his fingers along with his thumb on your clit, giving hard flicks on the bundle of nerves, made your legs tremble.

“oh fuck –,” you moaned, biting on your bottom lip as your hips thrusted upwards on its own, chasing your release.

Your slick dripped down your thighs as you held onto Jungkook’s shoulder for your dear life, wrinkling up his t-shirt in your tight grasp.

“You look so fucking pretty when you cum, y’k?” He smirked at you and you just returned a glare before closing your eyes again and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him moving and when you looked around and saw him reaching down to the nightstand beside his bed and pulled out a condom along with something like…hold on!... Is that–

“Jungkook! What the fuck?” The disbelief in your eyes made him smirk even more, he found amusement in your little gasp, “Saved it for special occasions.” He said while grinning at his supposed comedic statement.

“Special occasions? Since when you had a vibrator with you?” You gave him a hard glare which was supposed to indicate that you were pissed but he laughed at that. He fuckin’ laughed.

“Bought it because, I thought…,” He moved his fingers, the same ones which was buried deep into your cunt and still had your cum on it, brushed it over your lower lip, “You’d like it.” Then shoved the same finger into his mouth.

He was a fucking maniac for moaning around his own fingers, as if he was tasting world’s most delicious food or something. The fingers came out of his mouth, coated with his saliva this time.

The slow buzz of the vibrator behind you made you shiver in his hold, you felt his hands on your hips, slowly dragging them up and down until he reached your ass. Squeezing your ass cheeks firmly, he landed a slap on it out of the blue and it made you squeal on his lap.

Leaning forward, Jungkook again, started peppering kisses on your back, sucking on any area he can and licking it afterwards as he continued, made your breath hitched.

His lips were irresistible. He was irresistible. As much as you hate to admit it, it was the truth. Even though, he was your best friend and you guys were on the strict rule of FWB, The men sucking on your skin made you this wet like no one else and made you feel things you’ve never felt for anyone before.

It was dangerous whatever it was happening between you two. You knew it but, does it made you stop? No.

The way you shameless let out the loudest moan when he brought that cute little pink magic wand to your clit, made you slap your hand on your mouth and your legs to shut immediately.

His hardness was poking on your lower back, he was in his boxer so it was easy to feel it through the thin layer of clothing. He remove the vibrator and in an instant, you shifted onto his lap properly, this time your pussy directly on his cock which made him gasped and groaned. The sounds he made was enough to grew the ache in between your legs, it made you needier for any kind of touch he could gave you.

Your slickness dripped on his clothed cock from your bare pussy as you grind on it. He shut his eyes from the feeling of it, you felt him twitching.

“Fuck. Wait– baby, you planning on making me cum in my pants?” He chuckled breathily, pupils dilated with sheer lust as he said, “Let me take off my boxers.”

You shifted of his lap before he took it off. The idea of making him cum in his pants was arousing, you smiled as said while turning around to look at him, “Not a bad idea, though.”

You received a smack on your ass again along with the sound of his sweet chuckle. “Shut up and ride me, yeah?”

That considered yet dominating tone of his voice made your heart swell and your pussy clenched. The fact that he was making sure to made you feel comfortable, if you wanted the same thing or not even though it was the thing he wanted was appreciating. You knew, if you told him no and stopped, he wouldn’t even question you.

You smiled in return and kissed him, cupping his face while leaning on his shoulder, your back pressed against his chest and his cock brushed against your entrance, this time bare, direct skin to skin. It was enough to made you go crazy.

He squeezed your boobs and aligned his member at your entrance. Moaning into his mouth, you glided down on his length and took him in one-go.

He moaned along with you. Before you could start moving, he brought the vibrator to your clit and set it at the lowest mode but that was enough stimulation for you to roll your hips.

Jungkook held your waist, guided you on his cock while keeping the vibrator on your clit steadily.

“Yeah baby, ride it like that. Make yourself come on my cock.” He said through gritted teeth, groaning under his breath every time you thrust back on him. His other hand pressed lightly on your lower belly where his bulge can be seen while he increased the speed of the vibrator a bit higher. Your thighs shakes from the overstimulation, tears formed in your eyes and your moans were uncontrollable.

“Fuck fuck, gonn– c-come,” You cried out, tears now freely running down your flushed cheeks, the squelching sound of skin slapping against each other filled the room.

“Shit, hold it for me.” You thrusts were becoming erratic, upon knowing that Jungkook immediately handed over the vibrator to you and held you by your waist, started thrusting back at you.

He lay down on the mattress, seeing how his cock disappeared inside you and reappeared made him twitch violently, “Yes baby, that’s it. You feels so fucking good,” He groaned.

His praises made you clenched around him, moaning from the pure pleasure, you throw your head back. Even though, the vibrator was making you overstimulate, you couldn’t brought yourself to remove it. Nails digging on his hand, leaving marks for him to remember just like the bruises which will be prominent on your waist later, because of the dead grip of his.

He was rougher than before, slamming into you without a care in the world, “Fuck, I can see everything from here, how your pussy is swallowing my cock, baby. S-shit –,” He didn’t missed a chance to hit that perfect spot inside of you, abusing it to the point that your walls spasm and you squirt all over his cock and the bed sheet beneath you.

Tears stream down your cheeks from the intense pleasure in your core, your whole body shakes, you immediately removed the toy from you but Jungkook never stopped, constantly slammed back at you.

“Fuck, J-jungkook,” More spurs of liquids gushes out of you every time his cock came out of you. You couldn’t handle the pleasure as your body gave out and you leaned back on his chest. He still continued while holding onto you.

“Oh fuck–,” Jungkook moaned, never stopping his movements. The way you squirt, the hot liquid coated his cock, how your drenched pussy felt so good was overwhelming for him. You made him overwhelmed.

“I-I’m coming –,” You shrieked, pussy gripping his cock almost painfully. Jungkook couldn’t think straight as your warm walls engulf his member completely.

“Come on, come for me, baby.” Your vision got blurry, the harsh thrusts and the overstimulation was too much for you. You moans choked out from your throat, you almost let out a scream but restrained yourself for the sake of his neighbors.

With a last thrust, he finally came. His eyes rolled back as he dick restlessly twitches inside of you before he spiller his seeds inside the condom.

He slides out of you and your come oozed out of you, your body fall on top of him and he held you close to his chest. You could heard the soft beating of his heart, his slightly harsh breaths as he tried to recover from the intense session you two just shared.

You both lay down there in silent, hearing each other breaths and just…held onto each other like that in an intimate way.

Jungkook shifted in his place as he held onto you gently, carefully, not wanting to hurt you by any means as he places you beside him.

Your eyes were still closed when he cupped your face in his hands, when you finally looked at him you saw him staring back at you with his usual wide doe eyes. He didn’t said anything at first, just stared at you with something in his eyes you couldn’t decipher before he spoke, “Are you okay?”

His voice was as soft as his touches, there was slight hint of concern in his tone. This little things was the reason behind your growing feeling for him.

How caring and considerate he was with you, how he treated you as if he wanted you. Yes, he does wanted you but not in the way you wanted him. He was the first one to comfort you, he was always there for you. As a friends, he was perfect. And, as a boyfriend, he would be definitely better than your ex.

You smiled at him, “Yes, I’m absolutely okay.” You said that rather enthusiastically, making him chuckled in the process. He gave you a kiss on your forehead before despairing into his bathroom.

You thought, how it might be if you could tell him about the things you felt for him. It all started after he got cheated on by his ex.

He was devastated after that. You still remember the day when he cried in front of you. Jungkook was someone who wasn’t very good at expressing his emotions through words nor liked crying in front of others. So, when he did, you could imagine how hurt he might had been at that moment.

Still, he gave her some time and came with an agreement that they both just needed space to figure out what they both wanted. Bullshit.

You never liked that idea. She literally cheated on him, even though she was kissing another girl on the lips, it still considered as cheating. Still, you supported Jungkook, because that’s what friends do.

Your chain of thoughts broke as Jungkook entered his room with a wet towel in his hand and a glass of water. You took it out of his hand and gulp down the water but he didn’t gave you the towel. He always does that, wiping your essence off of you every time. You stopped with your futile attempts of you can do that yourself long ago.

“Wait, let me take a shower.” You didn’t said anything, it was strange. Aftercare was important for him, you knew it. Usually, you two shower together or cuddled up on the bed, but, this time, he went alone. You found that odd before your focus shifted towards his phone.

The sound of a notification made your face turned towards the litted up screen. You scooted over it and the thing you saw made your blood boiled for unknown reasons.

You saw a notification from his ex-girlfriend. They weren’t in the talking situation so, why he got notifications from her. The suspicion and bitterness got the best of you and you quickly dressed to leave his apartment.

Just as you were about to head outside, he barged out of the bathroom, halting his movements for a second by your form standing in front of his door to leave, the automatic pout came onto his face out of confusion, he spoke, “Where are you going? Wait– why are you leaving?”

His brows pinched together a frown settled on his face, “Is everything okay?” There was seriousness in his voice. He tried to came closer but, he noticed the hesitation in your movements so he backed up, didn’t wanted to made you uncomfortable.

“I – just have something’s to do.” You lied, voice came out in an whisper as if you didn’t had any strength left in your body. Nothing wrong there, fucking Jungkook always made your body exhausted afterwards, but, your heart always felt content. Not this time.

Even if he sensed your lie, he didn’t question you. “Then, let me drop you there at least,” He went to grab his keys before you stopped him in the track.

“Do your still talk with Sana?” There was a few seconds of silence, not a sound of footsteps or even breathing. Utter silent. You heart beats increased with every second, holding onto your handbag, you waited for his reply.

“No… but, she followed me on Instagram yesterday.” He told you the truth, never wanted to lie to you. He just didn’t knew why he made this thing a secret. Not a secret, he just didn’t priorities it enough to discussed this with you.

“And?”

“And, I followed her back, then she sent a massage.” He said that so casually as if he was talking about a random person. It wasn’t any random person.

You turned around and looked at him. You didn’t understood why you felt a stinging pain in your heart when you saw him standing there oblivious. There was a slight worriedness in his eyes.

“Jungkook…I don’t know what you were thinking but…why didn’t you tell me? Also, why are you talking to your ex?” Okay, not so smart question. You did admitted that. That’s his life, he could talk to anyone he wants, so asking him why he did that was stupid.

Still, he tried to explain, “I– sorry, I should’ve said this before, but I thought it wasn’t much important to discuss about,”

“Wasn’t much important to discuss with me, right?”

“What? No! ____, It’s not what you’re thinking –,”

“Then, what is it? Jungkook, she cheated on you –,” Those words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. You wished you didn’t said that because the way his eyes went wide and glossy, made your heart hurt.

“Lets not come to an conclusion yet, she said she need some time and I gave her that. Also, she did that after…her last encounter with us.” This time, you gasped. He was talking about the threesome you guys had a month ago before their break up.

It was a casual thing between the three of you, all of you gave your own concerns, all three of you wanted that. Now, why he brought that topic into this argument. The conclusion was far more worse. You brain immediately responded with he thinks she cheated on him because of me.

His ex wanted to explore her sexuality after her encounter with you during the threesome. It all came clear in your mind.

“Are you implying that…she cheated on you because of me?” Your voice slightly cracked at the end of the sentence and you cringed. Not wanting to stay even a second there, you barged out of his room without looking back.

“No no, ____ , listen. I never blamed you– fuck! I could never do that, baby.” He grabbed you arm, tried to calm you down. “Please, don’t misunderstood me.”

His voice held so much vulnerability, panic rushed over his eyes. You couldn’t brought yourself to look at him, because if you did, you would mold back into his arms instantly and you couldn’t let that happen.

He kept on pleading to you, standing at the doorway and you. You huffed at his stubbornness, “Jungkook, please I have to go, now. We can talk about this later.” You again lied.

Jungkook wouldn’t wanted to disrespect your decision or invade your personal space, he backed away from the door. He couldn't understand outburst but he did knew that you never liked it when someone hide something from you. he knew, he made you upset which he never wanted.

You could see his glistening eyes staring right at you, his brows furrowed as he kept on looking at you until you departed from his apartment.

Your tears, unrestrained, finally flowed freely, unable to be held back any longer.

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