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#only like 4.5K but enjoy
slytherinslut0 · 6 months
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MATTHEO RIDDLE ONESHOT- We Aren’t Over
VOTERS RESULT FROM MY POLL<3 XOXO ENJOY
Info: FWB gets jealous seeing you kiss another guy at a party after the two of you had called things off.
Word count: 4.5k
Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, PIV, FWB, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Begging, Teasing, Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Good Sex
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"You look so fucking sexy..."
large hands belonging to an admittedly handsome Ravenclaw student that you failed to acquire the name of gripped your hips; firmly pulling you against his tall body as his lips grazed your ear, hot whiskey breath washing over you, intoxicating you even further than you already were.
One hand slid around to your ass, gripping a palmful of the plump flesh over the fabric of your Slytherin uniform skirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as he nipped your earlobe, teeth tugging gently on your emerald earring, his voice a low reverberation down your spine.
"I'd love to rip that awful fucking uniform off of you and get a taste of what you're hiding under there..."
Your cheeks burned, warmth flooding you as you chewed on your lip, bringing your mouth toward his own ear now as the two of you could hardly hear yourselves think amidst the blaring music coming from the speakers in the out-of-control Friday night Slytherin party, green flashing lights blurring your vision further than the alcohol was as you squinted to try and get a better glimpse of his face.
In your intoxicated state, you couldn't recognize this guy for the life of you. The only thing that gave away his Ravenclaw status was his uniform.
"I'd be careful with your next words there, little Raven," you purred, your unsteady fingers finding his shoulders. "I promise you, you'll regret coming into my house and disrespecting my emblem like that..."
Gods, you were fucking hammered, but since you and your friends-with-benefits had called things off last weekend; you'd been desperate to find someone new to hopefully satisfy you just as well as he did--but admittedly, your hopes were low.
Not many boys knew your body like the back of their hand, or knew exactly how to drive you sexually insane, the way Mattheo fucking Riddle did.
"Is that so?" His grip on your body tightened, a deep groan leaving his throat as he pressed his lips to your jaw. "I'm not quite sure a poor little serpent like you is any match for a big bad raven like me..."
"You'd be surprised," you retorted, slowly threading your fingers through his thick brown hair. "It's been proven that even the most intelligent birds couldn't elude the cunning serpent's snare..." you tilted your head, smirking. "But go on, underestimate me...that'll be fun."
His eyes widened, the darkness inside his pupils boring into you, drowning you in their endless voids. Your stomach twisted as your sight locked in with his, and you took a moment to analyze his features a little better. Gods, he looked so fucking much like Mattheo.
Why was it that you could never seem to get that fucking guy out of your head?
You were convinced that you were going to die one day with his gorgeous fucking face still haunting you--those dark penetrating eyes, that devilish, seductive smirk--that messy mop of chocolate curls that sat effortlessly adorable over his forehead. Fuck, you hated him.
You hated him for fucking you so good you couldn't stop fucking thinking about him; even after the endless bickering and arguing the two of you had been going through over the last few weeks, causing a consensual end to your hookups--you hated him for occupying your mind even while you were pressed up against an undeniably sexy new guy, who clearly had a deep interest in you, who clearly wanted to fuck you until your legs gave out.
You should be happy right now, you should be overly fucking ecstatic, practically brimming with relief as the Ravenclaw guy leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and capturing your mouth in a sloppy, intoxicated kiss; his tongue slipping past your teeth as his hands gripped your ass with enough force to bruise--you should be completely fucking overjoyed as your lids fluttered shut, your mouths working over the others with a little too much desperation as you stood in the middle of the crowded common room, fervent fingers gripping onto each other as though your lives depended on it.
You should be happy, but you're not.
When you broke the kiss, the Ravenclaws brows furrowed, but before he had a chance to ask you to his dorm, and in a hopeful attempt at subtly saving yourself, you brought your lips toward his ear, trying to sound as sexy and inconspicuous as possible. "Why don't you get us some drinks?"
When he smirked, nodding in agreement, he graced your ass with one last squeeze before he spun around, making his way across the room and heading toward the bar station. You watched him as he went, and as soon as he had disappeared within the sea of inebriated bodies; you let out a long, exasperated breath; spinning on your heel to quickly make your way to the bathroom and away from that spot before he returned.
Sure, you felt bad for ditching him like that, but he was just as drunk as you were. He'd forget you even existed by the morning.
As you shoved your way through the endless amounts of drunk, sweaty bodies, you'd almost successfully broke through the crowd when a strong, firm grip wrapped around your wrist; hot breath washing over your neck as a tall body pressed against your backside--a height so towering and presence so intoxicating you already knew, without hearing his voice or seeing his face, that it could only be one fucking man.
"Where you headed, princess?" Mattheo's deep, husky drawl rolled through your eardrums like honey; a slow, thick, and admittedly fucking seductive pitch. "You're not really going to ditch that poor bastard after getting him going like that, are you?"
You turned your head, trying to glimpse him over your shoulder, fighting to hide your smirk. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Riddle."
"Ouch...one week without my cock and we're already back to second name basis, huh?" His grip tightened, his body heat enveloping you, his plush lips pressed tight against your ear. "I'm just surprised...you looked like you were enjoying yourself."
"Stalking me, are you?" You scoffed, trying to pry your wrist from his hold but he tightened his grip even further, other hand snaking around to your hip. "Is the big heartless Riddle boy jealous?"
He chuckled, and you could almost see the smirk on his lips. The feeling of his chest rumbling against your back did inexplicable things to your cunt. Gods, you hated how you were already fucking melting for him and you haven't even taken one single look at his face.
"Were you thinking about me?" He purred, teeth nipping at your ear, the arrogance in his tone igniting flames in your veins. "When his tongue was halfway down your fucking throat, were you wishing it was mine?"
"Give me a break, Mattheo." Your head was spinning, oxygen evaporating; but you knew you needed to play it off. "Don't fucking flatter yourself."
"You know you love the things I fucking did to you..." by this point his voice was a low growl, his tone so deep and dark in your ear it sent shudders skittering down your spine. "You know you'll search for me in every single sad sack you try to distract yourself with."
Heat flashed your face, his fingers digging into your hip with enough force to bruise. "Jealous of a Ravenclaw...must be a tough pill to swallow for the Slytherin prince-"
When his teeth sunk into your earlobe with enough force to basically tell you to shut up without actually saying it, you yelped--eyes fluttering shut as he tugged you back against him with added force.
"Keep talking, princess, and I won't hesitate to walk over there and rearrange his fucking face..." he spat the words through barred teeth, your bones shaking with the deep vibration. "Do you even know his name? Huh? Do you even know who the fuck he is?"
Gods, you were cursing yourself. As if you were about to fold for this man after he'd basically told you to fuck off and leave him alone no less than a week ago. Your brain knew, above all else, that what you were about to do was completely fucking wrong--but your cunt paid no mind to your brains protests. Your cunt wanted Mattheo Riddle.
"No, Matty, I don't..." you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to you neck. "Lots of night left, though...I'm sure I'll be quite familiar with it when I'm screaming-"
He sunk his teeth into your neck now, forcing a sharp squeal from your lips--another commanding gesture to silently warn you that if you kept talking, he was going to fucking lose it. Part of you hoped he would.
"What have I told you about saying my fucking name like that, princess..." he growled, licking a flat strip up the side of your throat. Fuck, you loved that tongue. That skilled, tentative fucking tongue. "And if you keep talking like that, the only thing you'll be screaming is for me to stop when I'm beating his fucking face into the floor..."
His words made you fucking shudder, a full body tremor against his built chest, entirely unable to control yourself now. The need between your thighs was becoming more insistent by the second, and at this point--you were at a complete loss for words; your lips involuntarily uttering the one word you knew you'd never forget how to say, regardless of how speechless you were.
His name. "Mattheo..."
"There she is..." he murmured, the praise in his tone making your breath hitch in your lungs. "Aren't you glad you met me? I know you got me stuck inside your memory..."
Long fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt, grazing over your stomach. Bodies were everywhere, drunk students around you paying absolutely no mind to the intoxicated sins the two of you were about to commit.
"No," you uttered, so quiet you weren't even sure if he'd heard it. "I want you out of my fucking head..."
He purred in satisfaction, revelling in the fact you'd finally admitted to missing him. "Should've listened to me, princess...told you I was bad for you..."
More heat swarmed you, your thighs screaming; begging in need. "We can't keep doing this...it's so wrong, Matty..."
"But it feels so right, doesn't it?" His hand around your wrist snuck down to your hip, his other pressed against your stomach; pulling you tighter against his crotch--your breath evaporated when you felt his aggressive bulge against your ass. "Feel that, princess? That's what you fucking do to me..."
He pressed his lips to your pulse, teeth softly grazing over it, and you mewled; head falling back against his shoulder, body melting into his own--surrendering yourself to his intoxicating dominance just as you've done time and time before.
"I hate myself for letting you do this to me..." you breathed, head rolling to the side as his teeth worked purple possession marks into your skin. "I'm so stupid for you..."
"That's it, admit it, baby...admit that you missed this..." his grip tightened, tone thickened with lust. "You're my little devil, you know I'd sin for you..."
At his words, your entire body ignited into pure fucking flame, magma replacing the blood that flowed through your veins; threatening to melt your uniform and leaving you in nothing more than a pile of ash at his feet. You were done talking, you needed his fucking cock.
"Are we gonna quit the talking and do something about it then, hm?" You purred, tilting your head back to meet his eyes for the first time; your head spinning as you drowned in the dark hurricane of their desire. "Show me how you'd sin for me, Matty..."
"I'll show you, baby, I'll fucking show you..." he said, wetting his lips as he held your stare. "Your dorm or mine?"
Music to your fucking ears. "Yours."
Without another word, Mattheo gripped your wrist, his hold like a snake, slithering around you gently at first; slowly increasing its pressure until he'd cut the blood flow, threatening suffocation of your lungs and leaving you with only hungry, primal desire--eradicating all thoughts of just how horrible of an idea you knew this was. He dragged you out of the common room and toward his dorm, not sparing you a single glance as he ripped open the door and pulled you inside; slamming your back up against it as it closed, one hand snaking toward the lock and clicking it tight into place.
When he paused, two hands finding residence against the wood on either side of your head; not moving, only staring, it was as though the rest of the world faded away--and all that was left was the cunning, messy brown haired boy in front of you. His presence filled the room, suffocating you, stopping your heart mid-beat. He loomed over you, toes centimeters from your own, chest so close that you both would touch with a deep enough breath.
You scanned his body, heart pounding, palms sweating from the impending reality of your desire, and he smirked, leaning closer.
"I don't think I can allow another man to lay a fucking finger on you ever again..." he whispered. "I don't think that perfect fucking pussy can belong to anyone fucking else."
"Since when did it belong to you, Matty?" You shuddered, deciding to test him a bit. "I thought we were just casual-"
"You think anyone else could fuck you stupid like I do?" You could practically feel his fingernails digging into the wood beside your head, the anger building in his eyes. "How about your exes? How'd they fuck you, huh?"
Your throat tightened. "Mattheo-"
"Say it." He growled, leaning closer--so close your noses brushed. "You want me to make you fucking cum, princess? Say that little pussy is mine."
Gods, curse your fucking insatiable need to get fucked. At this point, you were fully cognizant of the fact that this man could make you say damned-near anything if it meant he'd get inside you. Swallowing your ego, you met his stare--as intense as it had ever felt--and licked your lips.
"It's yours, Matty..." you murmured. "It's all yours."
Mattheo Riddle smirked. "That's fucking right."
Unable to decide between indignant and patronized, you eschewed both, and instead opted to hook your fingers into his belt, pulling yourself into him while you boosted yourself on your tiptoes to meet his lips with your own. Your kiss was hungry and demanding as you sought to memorize his mouth with your tongue. Mattheo's large hands cupped your face, fingers delving into your hair while he pressed into you, forcing you back tighter against the door.
You groaned against his lips, writhing underneath him while you slid your tongue along his teeth, seeking to know every part of him, needing him to want you--to fucking need you like you needed him. Mattheo drew in a breath through his nose and pushed deeper, like he wanted to fuse you with the door, and your hands shot into his hair, a shiver running through you as you felt how soft, how luxurious it was between your fingers.
Another soft groan rumbled in your chest, and--having distant, fuzzy deja vu of the countless encounters prior--you wrapped the curly tendrils of his hair around your fingers and yanked it.
At that, a deep moan left his throat, and he pulled back, waves of harsh breath crashing over him. His blackened eyes darted across your face, switching between your lips and eyes. "Fucking naughty little thing..." he huffed, smirking.
"For you, always," you murmured, and he groaned, wetting his lips as he leaned closer.
"Fuck-that's right...I love it when you're bad...you only act this way for me, huh?" His voice was a low purr, warm breath crashing your face. "That why you didn't fuck him? That why you ran?"
Chewing your lip, you nodded, and tugged his hair again, bringing him to your mouth once more.
He smirked against you and his hands fell to your hips, roaming the swell of your curves before gripping the underside of your thighs and hiking you onto the door. Immediately, the aching length in his pants ground into your center while his tongue fought its way into your mouth. Without you having to think, your legs circled him, and your hips were grinding back, pursuing any friction and heat you could find.
You peeled away to catch a breath, hands resting in his hair, and his lips went to work on your neck, suckling and nibbling the skin there.
"Matty...please..." you murmured, already begging for something, anything. "I need you."
Snuffing a groan, Mattheos grip bruised your hips as he bucked into you, grinding you against the door.
"You want me to fuck you, slut?" he said, breath hot on your neck. "Didn't get enough of my cock last time?"
"No-fuck-I didn't," you mewled, a slight embarrassment washing over you. "It's never enough."
Mattheo growled, his grip hardening to iron, and he licked a warm, wet line along your pulse. "That's right...that's what I like to hear..."
Sinking his teeth into your neck, he pushed off the door, walking over toward his bed as he held you against his chest. You watched the door get further and further away, lust building and growing in your chest as he nipped your jawline before grazing his lips over yours again, softly and briefly as he reached the edge of his mattress and laid you back against it.
When you hit the bed, he kept his mouth on yours while his hands left your waist; fervent fingers finding the fabric of your button up blouse and untucking it from your skirt, cold hands slipping underneath and groping your tits through your bra--a deep groan leaving his chest as you bucked your hips up against his crotch; wanting him closer, needing him closer.
His hands slid back down, finding the hem of your skirt and flipping it up your stomach, wasting zero fucking time before he hooked his thumbs around the band of your thong and peeled them down your thighs. The minute you were exposed, you heard the clatter of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and your pussy throbbed.
"Matty..."
Mattheo chuckled, the weight of his stare resting on your naked pussy; wallowing in your clear desperation for him.
"Look at you," he murmured. "So fucking wet." He released a long breath--he was testing his own patience, now. "This perfect body can't help but to crave me..."
You groaned as he teased your inner thigh with one hand, the other working to peel his shirt off his torso in one swift movement--exposing his hard, firm fucking abs and leaving him looming before you in just black briefs--looking as delicious and sexy as you've ever goddamn seen him.
As his long fingers ghosted over your folds, you arched, groaning when he brushed past it toward the inside of your other thigh; squirming in slight frustration, admittedly the teasing was absolutely getting to you now.
"Mattheo, I swear to-"
A firm, sharp smack to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh stopped the words in your throat; your stomach twisted as you watched Mattheo's eyes darken and lips curl sadistically.
"Is that how I taught you to ask for what you want?" He sneered, wetting his lips as he met your pleading eyes. "You know what I want to hear, princess."
You winced, swallowing your pride furthermore, until it was eroding in your stomach acid. "Please, Matty...please make me cum..."
His lips parted. "Good girl.”
His hum of approval was followed by the warm kiss of his fingertips along the sensitive lips of your pussy, feathersoft at first, and then one thick finger slipped between your folds, gliding between them, slicking itself with your wetness and grazing the swollen nub of your clit. That did it--blinded with relief, you cracked, moaning deep in your chest. Blood flushed your face, tingling your cheeks.
"You like that?" He brushed the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. "You like the way I touch you? The way that pretty pussy responds to me?"
"Yes...Gods, yes..." you replied, the sentence coming without thought.
"That's right..." his free hand wrapped around the back of your thigh, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed, fingers swirling around your clit in tight circles, and you gasped, your mouth dropping in bliss, your rapid panting filling the steamy air.
"Fuck you're so sexy, my dirty little whore in her short little uniform skirt..." a stifled groan cut through his throat, and you shot a glance at him; one hand rubbing his strained erection through his boxers. "It took everything I had not to bend you over the fucking desk in class all week...fuck you know how to test me..."
You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Matty, fuck-please..."
"Please what?" He growled.
Gods, curse him--curse him to bloody hell. You couldn't fucking handle this anymore. You knew he was punishing you, making you fucking beg and shatter and cry for it after what you'd done; and the way his fingers stroked your clit had you spasming, jerking--so close to cumming, you just wanted him inside you.
"Please." You banished all pride and ego and fucking common sense to the perimeter of your mind. Asylum. Just this once. "Please, fuck me...please."
"Tell me I'm the only one." He hissed, slipping a finger inside your wet, throbbing core; your back arching off the mattress as his thumb increased its pace on your clit. "Tell me you'll never let another man put his fucking hands on what's mine."
A cyclone was roaring in your brain, tearing apart coherent trains of thought with primitive, physical clamoring. Your response was pieced together by the efforts of your need for release alone.
"Fuck-no, never, Matty...I'm yours...all fucking yours..."
He was staring at you, face blank, surveying you while you twitched and jerked underneath his ministrations. His focus switched between your pussy--desperately throbbing and melting against his touch--and your red, sweating face, jaw slack from your haze of pleasure. You chewed your lip--it was bruised by now, certainly--clenching hard, and he groaned, pulling his boxers down to let his thick, needy cock spring free.
"Cum for me, slut." He ordered. "Cum for me right fucking now."
As if controlled by a remote in his hands, a tidal wave of euphoria slammed into you, walls pulsing, body wracked with the convulsions of an aggressively pent up orgasm, vision whiting out as you threw your head back, a loud string of unintelligible curses flying from you. Mattheo hummed, hand working you to the end of your orgasm as his free one slowly stroked his cock, watching every tiny ministration of your face with an exasperated expression until he was certain you were past it.
And when he was, he wasted no fucking time before he gripped your ankles in his hands, staring down at you as he began to rock his hips; his hard, throbbing dick sliding between your slit.
"Tell me you want it," he purred. "Beg for it."
You groaned. "Please, I want it Matty…I want you so fucking bad."
With a goddamn suffocatingly arrogant and devilish grin, he braced himself as he sunk into your pussy; your wet walls swallowing his cock with ease as you let loose a long, satisfied moan--Mattheo sucked a breath in through his bared teeth as sheathed himself all the way inside your cunt, pausing there to feel you clench and adjust around him.
"So fuckin' tight..." he groaned, head bowing. "Fuck you feel so good around me."
Your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers finding Mattheo's hands until he gathered both of your wrists and pinned them above your head with just one of his, leaning over you to fuck you deep and hard as his free hand snuck down to your clit. Throttled cries of pleasure were leaking from you, your conscious slipping from reality as he pummelled your pussy like you deserved the pain.
"Fuck, yes," you practically screamed. "You fuck me so good Matty...so deep, fuck-" 
A deep snarl roared from Mattheo's chest, his grip on your wrists tightening while he fucked you deeper, harder, your body rocking from the power of his thrusts. You could feel his ragged breath on your face, knew without seeing him that he was above you, lips parted, pupils blown.
"Look at me," he growled. "Let me see those eyes as you fucking cum for me."
Groaning, you obeyed, lids fluttering open to meet his gaze. Mattheo was possessed, looking past you, through you, panting with every snap of his hips. You lost yourself in his stare, the rest of the room falling away, and his fingers moved faster over your clit, bringing you to that precipice once more. Little choked moans left you while your jaw hung slack, his cock pounding into you--then his fingers hit just the right spot, and the massive, asphyxiating pressure inside of you imploded. Mattheo watched you, not even blinking once.
You thought you kept your eyes open, but you weren't sure, because you whited out, spasming and convulsing as your orgasm wracked your every cell, your every nerve, taking you to a height you'd never been to, never thought existed. Distantly, you were aware of your cunt drawing out Mattheo's climax as he cursed and dug his teeth into your shoulder, fucking you harder as he spilled himself deep inside of you.
You hadn't realized what had happened until your spirit returned to your body and you felt the burn of hot, wet tears streaming down your cheeks--evidence of your relief--followed by Mattheo collapsing on top of you, cock buried still inside your pussy, and both of you drank in lungfuls of air, starved for it, your brains fuzzy with the static of euphoria. You both laid there for a moment, rapt in the descent back to reality, until he pushed himself up and pulled out, holding you firmly in his stare again.
As he began to piece his clothes back together, you gathered your composure, pulling yourself up and off his bed, fixing yourself back to some form of decency. As you swallowed, watching Mattheo latch up his belt, he met your eyes again; the dark lust slowly fading, being replaced by an unspoken emotion you couldn't attempt to name.
"This isn't over." He breathed, moving back toward you. "We aren't over."
When your lungs hitched, you nodded, admitting to yourself that you already fucking knew you couldn't live without that. Without him.
"No," you whispered. "We aren't."
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woahjo · 23 days
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APHRODISIAC! (Bakugou x Reader)
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masterlist 
Pairing: Bakugou x Reader
Summary: Katsuki gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk. You decide to check in on him. What could go wrong?
Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, dubcon, smut, porn with little to no plot, aphrodisiac quirks, quirkless reader, prohero!katsuki, rough sex, borderline free use, biting, creampie, multiple orgasms (fem!receiving), masturbation, edging (kinda), manhandling, katsuki is dominant but also not idk he's desperate, possessiveness, overstimulation, size kink, scent kink, some light aftercare! woo hoo!, friends to lovers sort of
Word Count: 4.5k
A/N: yeah ik this isn't what i typically write but idk where this came from. i had a thought and it spiraled bad and now i have this. there is no deeper message. there is no meaning. i wrote this to make him FUCK and be kinda weird and desperate and pathetic about it. i needed to see him physically overpower us while also so desperate that it makes him look stupid. i feel violent. this bad boy is not going on ao3 lol. anyway, enjoy, heed the warnings.
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Katsuki paces around the one bedroom apartment he rents in downtown Musutafu. His skin is tingling. Every nerve he has burns like it's been set on fire, needing some sort of touch to soothe it. His cock aches between his legs, hard and leaking against the side of his thigh. Katsuki grits his teeth, running his hands over his hair and then letting his palms slide down the sides of his exposed biceps. 
Sweat collects on his skin, the kind that comes from desperation or maybe a fever, and he feels it on his palms when he lets them drop to his sides and clenches his fists. Fuck, he can't believe he got hit with a non-fatal quirk and had to be sent home. It's humiliating. What's worse is that it hasn't worn off yet, rendering him completely useless. 
He sits on his couch, his legs spread wide, and leans back against the couch cushions, wincing as he reaches to unbutton his pants. He's never been this sensitive in his life and it almost hurts to grab his cock and pull it from his pants. Katsuki watches it twitch for a moment, rigid between his legs and leaking pre-cum from its angry tip. He doesn't even have to think about anything in particular, he's just turned on. Unbearably so. 
Katsuki wraps his hand around the base of his cock and jerks upward once, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth at his own sensitivity. Then, the desperation sets in fully and he squeezes the head of his cock with a wince and a low groan before beginning to slide his hand up and down. He pauses to spit into his palm, desperate for some sort of relief from the tension weaving its way through his body, his hand moving faster and fast over this dick. Katsuki only pauses when he touches his overly sensitive head, swallowing down an audible moan as he moves his hips to desperately fuck his fist. 
He tries not to think of the humiliation in this, instead focusing on chasing a high that seems to get farther and farther. He stays like this for a while, desperately fucking his fist with low groans and whines. His face is completely flushed, sweat beading on his brow and forehead, covering every inch of his skin with a pathetic, glowing sheen. God, he's almost fucking angry. The frustration, the sheer desperation for release, is making it difficult to control his temper and he knots his free hand into the soft pillow beside him, raising it to his face and using it to cover his head so he can be a little louder. 
He's desperately humping his fist when his doorbell rings. At first, it's only once and Katsuki thinks he can ignore it, but then it comes again, five more times and consistently more aggressive. 
"Katsuki?" your voice calls through the wood paneling of his door. "I heard you got hit with a quirk and sent home. Let me in." 
He furrows his eyebrows at the irony of the last person in the world he wants to encounter at a time like this. Pretty, quirkless, you. His long time friend and recent dispatcher at his agency. Someone he secretly wants to fuck even without the aphrodisiac quirk floating through his bloodstream. You really get under his skin. You’re exactly his type, right down to that annoying little attitude of yours that drives Katsuki insane. Of course, he's always respected your friendship a little too much to do anything about it, but tonight, he doesn't think he'll be able to and he sits in silence with his lip caught between his teeth while he fucks his fists and hopes you'll go away. 
"I know you're in there," you call again. "I can see the light on." 
You bang three times on the door and then ring the doorbell again, pushy and insistent the way you always are. A match for his stubborn attitude. 
Katsuki swears and stands up, his hands shaking as he tucks his sensitive cock back into his sweatpants and flips the head up into his waistband with a hiss. 
The crazy thing is, he can literally smell you through the door. The scent of you, that sweet and rounded perfume you wear, wafts under the crack of his apartment door. He pauses outside of it, resisting the temptation to open it, to welcome that smell into his apartment and use you to relieve the aching in his cock and lower belly. 
"Katsuki?" You ask, a little quieter now. 
Jesus fucking christ, don't call his name like that. 
He swings the door open, letting his hand rest on the side of it so that it is positioned above his head. You look taken aback at his appearance, covered in sweat and flushed from the neck up, his chest exposed and heaving. 
"What?" he says, looking you up and down. 
Katsuki bites back the urge to yank you in. Why is it he can literally smell the sweat on your body and every prick of your emotions? It's like he can tell exactly what you're thinking, or maybe it's what he wants you to be thinking. 
"Don't get on my ass about me still technically needing to be at work," you start, stepping forward. "I heard something happened and I just came to check and you look like shi-" 
Katsuki blocks you from coming in with his body. You stumble backwards lightly and raise your eyebrow at him. There's a pause as you register that you've just run into a solid wall of muscle, sweat covered and glistening, while Katsuki eyes you like you're meat on a platter. He knows he's doing it, but he can literally smell every turn of your scent, soft and sweet. And he may be fooling himself... but are you... turned on? 
"Let me in?" you say with a small laugh, side stepping to go around him. He blocks you again, his fingers gripping the door frame so hard that his knuckles are white. 
"Go home," he says quietly, his voice tense. 
"What? No," you furrow your eyebrows at him. "What's the matter with you?" 
You duck under his arm and place your hand momentarily on his chest. Your touch makes him tingle all over and he sucks in a sharp breath. 
"I'm not fucking around," he says. 
"Okay, me neither," you respond with a bit of an attitude. "I expected you to be worse for wear but you look like crap. Like you're... I don't know." 
You trail off a little. 
"Let me help," you say, shaking off whatever thought had come over you. "I'll make you some food." 
"Look, no offense, but I don't think you want to help me with this," he says, a frustrated bite in his voice. Food isn't exactly what he's hungry for. 
"That's too bad," you say slowly, seemingly put off by the desperate air about him and settling into his kitchen. You move to open the fridge.
Katsuki walks up to you quickly, taking your wrist from the door and holding it between the two of you. Cool air hits his exposed chest and arm as the door falls shut again. 
"I'm dead serious. Get the fuck out of here or I'm gonna do something I regret," he hisses through a clenched jaw. Your skin is warm on the pads of his fingers, wrist held flush against his palm. He bites back a genuine shudder. 
Your eyes are wide as you look back at him, glancing between where he's caught your wrist by your head and his eyes. Katsuki's gaze roams over your face, pausing as he hits the top of your blouse where a few buttons remain open. When he returns his eyes to yours, your mouth moves to open before a heady understanding settles over your features. You're so pretty. Everything about you is pretty, so delightful and delicate. Your eyes look glassy and wide. Katsuki has always found them tempting, but today he can't stop himself. 
He leans forward and kisses you, holding your wrist to his chest as his mouth comes messily into contact with yours. You squeak and freeze and it takes all he has to pull away from you. 
"Go home," he says again, his lips tingling. Katsuki feels the color creep onto his cheeks, his hand still holding your wrist. 
You don't say anything, looking at him with those pretty eyes. He swallows thick and feels the saliva drag against his throat. Then, his mouth dries completely, his expression twisting into discomfort as his cock throbs between his legs as the scent of you takes on a sharper turn. He's never felt anything like this before, something animal. 
Katsuki tightens his jaw, staring at you for a moment. Then, he takes a step towards you. You take one back, though he doesn't feel like you're afraid. Rather, you tilt your head down to look at him through your lashes. He lets out a breath through his teeth and walks you back until your ass hits the counter, his free hand coming to gingerly touch your waist. You inhale when he leans in to kiss you again, screwing your eyes shut and reaching to grab at his shoulder to pull him closer. 
Every touch tingles. It burns and he drops your wrist to manhandle your hips. You suck on his bottom lip, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. He ruts his hips against yours, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the ache, and you gasp a little and let your mouth fall open. Katsuki takes the opportunity to bite down hard on your lip with a low groan, slipping his tongue into your mouth as the pads of his fingers press harshly into you. You whine, eyebrows pulling up. 
Katsuki’s eyes are slightly open, just so that he can look at you. Every aspect of his senses feel heightened and the relief of your mouth far surpasses that of his hand over his throbbing cock only minutes earlier. 
He pants, taking your hips and lifting you onto the counter so that you’re seated, pulling away for just a moment to lift the hem of your shirt and expose your breasts. Katsuki puts his face on the pillowy tops of them, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as his hand teases its way up the skin of your back to unclasp it. He thinks you’re probably looking at him, but if you are, he doesn’t have the mind to care about what sort of behavior he’s exhibiting. He can practically smell how wet you are from just a little touching and if he weren’t so fucking desperate for a little relief, he’d tease you for a few hours just to watch your pussy drool over him. 
The cool air of his apartment hits your exposed nipples. Katsuki takes it upon himself, without even a second thought, to roll the hard bud under his tongue. He feels the way goosebumps rise on your skin, his hands coming to rest over the tops of your thighs. Katsuki bites lightly on your breast and you fucking whine at it, tipping your head back and rooting your hand into the tufts of his blonde hair. 
His cock jumps in his pants and he’s no doubt leaked enough to leave an evident wet spot against the gray of his sweatpants. He stands to his full height, pushing your skirt up and pressing the outline of his cock to your crotch. Heat bleeds through your panties, the kind that makes him feel like he’s going absolutely fucking insane. You gasp, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him close again. 
Katsuki’s mouth hits yours messily, breathing hard as he ruts his hips up against your crotch, pulling you forward on the counter so he can feel as much of the pillowy folds of your pussy through the thick fabric as possible. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth, sharp canines digging into the wet flesh of your mouth. He whines— high-pitched, desperate sound—as you position your hips to press your crotch against the head of his cock. His head falls onto your chest, forehead resting against the hollow of your throat. Katsuki humps at you, pulling you against him to match the rhythm of his hips, grinding your clothed cunt over the bulge of his cock. It’s a desperate motion, completely subconscious as he lets the quirk he’s been hit with take the lead.
His fingers dip into the crease of your thigh, fumbling as they reach for the waistband of the panties you’re wearing. Katsuki’s desperation is so palpable that he finds himself panting as he slips his fingers into the sides of your underwear, yanking them down. You gasp at the force of it and he swears he hears a small tear as he pulls them from your cunt, the crotch sticking to the lips of your pussy. 
He leans his hips forward again, sliding his cock between your folds with a deep grunt. His mouth finds your neck and he bites along the side of it, lathing his tongue over your pulse point. It’s like he can taste you. Salt and that stupid perfume, collecting on his tongue as you dig your fingers into his back, his dick rutting restlessly against your clit. At one point, he almost slips in, his eagerness and your wetness making him careless. Katsuki sucks in a breath through his teeth, his whole body on fire. 
The kitchen light shines down on his back and he can see the outline of part of his shadow on your thighs as he stares down at them, guiding the tip of himself to your entrance. He hears you wine when he presses against it and moves his hand down subconsciously to rub at your clit. An attempt to ease the stretch. 
You tip your head back in a moan and Katsuki takes the opportunity to kiss your neck before settling his teeth against your shoulder and biting down harshly on the muscle connecting your neck and arm. You yelp at the sensation and Katsuki shutters at the sound, willing out a choked I’m sorry as he slides into your wetness. His hands push into the delightfully soft flesh of your upper thighs, the fat spilling up around each individual digit as he uses your legs for leverage, sliding you forward even further to better seat you on him. 
Your legs are shaking and he can feel the way your nails dig into his exposed shoulder blades. Your bunch up skirt causes the fat of your tummy to fold over in a way that practically makes Katsuki drool. He urges himself to pause, attempting to come back to his senses as the quirk kicks into high gear. There’s relief in being inside of you, in feeling the flutter of your walls around his thick cock, but it also makes him desperate. Katsuki feels like he’s chasing something that he was desperately and it’s just out of his reach. 
You’re breathing heavily above him, he can see the rise and fall of your chest from where his head hangs down, his hands trembling on the tops of your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes, his vision foggy around the edges as if he were peering through a tube. You’re at the end of it, your eyes glassy and mouth open, returning the look. Your eyebrows are knitted up in pleasure, but you almost seem confused. 
“What are you waiting for?” You breathe out, the first thing you’ve said since he started touching you. 
The tone of your voice is needy, with a delightful whiny lilt that makes him groan out loud. He can barely manage the words that come out next, his brain half mush, and he feels the way his cock jumps inside of you. 
“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says through gritted teeth, his breath coming heavy. 
There’s a pause and he feels the distinct sensation of you squeezing down around his cock, like the idea turns you on. 
“Use me,” you respond cautiously, your voice still containing that needy lilt. 
Katsuki’s hips fuck up into you voluntarily and he feels the way his breath catches in his throat at the near desperate sound of your voice.
“Say that again.” 
“Use me, Katsuki,” you respond, choking on your words as he fucks his hips up into you. 
You reach for his face, taking it in your hands and drawing it close until it’s just in front of yours. Then, your palms slide down his shoulders and he screws his eyes shut and fucks into you again, harder this time, causing your body to jolt upwards on the counter. 
He curses under his breath, pushing one leg further to the side and fucking his hips up into you roughly. You’re looking right at him, your expression drawn and pleasure-soaked, sweat collecting on your forehead as your mouth drops open into an o-shape. You punctuate his thrusts with high pitched yelps, squeaking out your pleasure and the deepness of where he’s hitting through choked moans. 
Katsuki’s hands move up your stomach to roughly cup your breasts, his mouth so close to yours that he’s practically breathing in the sounds you make in exchange for his own hurried groans. He kneads at the fat of your chest, rolling your breast under his fingers before taking your nipples and pulling lightly on them. 
He’s aware of just how rough he’s being, just how hard his hips are slapping yours, but he feels like he can’t stop. Katsuki chases a high so fucking desperate that his body is on autopilot, reaching and touching and moaning unabashedly as the room fills with the wet sound of his balls on the backs of your thick thighs. 
You push your chest forward towards him, legs spread wide to make room for the width of his hips between yours as he bullies that perfect sensitive spot inside of you. Katsuki feels the way he makes you flutter. Every shift of your body, every involuntary squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, registers as if he were a part of you. His skin tingles everywhere you touch and the drag of your nails over his shoulder blades makes him want to crawl into the deepest part of you. Even the sound of your voice, drawn and desperate and mildly overwhelmed, feels like a drug to him. Every sense he has seems to be acutely attuned to just how badly he needs to fuck your lights out. 
His hands slink down to your hips, resituating you and pulling you flush against him. Then, he drags his cock all the way out of you and quickly ruts back in, moaning as he does. His pace picks up, manhandling you forward on the counter until he is supporting most of your weight. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as you let him use you like a toy. 
Katsuki chases his high, his stomach seeming to wind tighter and tighter but never finding that perfect snap and release. His movements grow faster, using all of his strength to fuck his hips up into you, barreling his cock against your gummy walls and bullying your sweet spot. He feels the way you tighten down around him, your body tensing and fingers digging crescent moons into the tops of his shoulders. 
“Ka-” you choke out desperately, your voice breaking. “Wait, Katsuki, wait! I’m gonna-” 
You shudder, your thighs squeezing around him as he continues to fuck you. 
“Do it,” he seethes, “just fuckin’ do it.” 
The end of his sentence comes out as more of a whimper as you cry out and squeeze down around him, squirming in his grasp as you begin to twitch with every additional thrust. Your body shakes, legs locking around him and struggling to hold him inside as he fucks you clear through your orgasm and then to the other side. 
Katsuki’s voice breaks, almost whimpering like an animal as he buries himself in your pussy over and over again. He wants to smother you, he wants to completely cover your body and get as close as he possibly can. He’s already so much bigger than you, so much broader, how hard could it be to swallow you completely? 
Katsuki’s hands come up under your ass as he wordlessly lifts you from the counter and moves to the couch on desperate, shaky steps. He lays you down, slipping out of you for a moment, before pressing a hand to the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs, and sinking his cock back into you as he crowds his body over yours. 
“You know what?” He says, not really sure what’s going to come next. His head is so clouded with the quirk that he can’t think straight. “I’ve wanted to do this forever. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so- long-” 
He screws his eyes shut, almost angry with the way he can’t seem to hit that high, teetering on a desperate and near painful edge. 
“Those fuckin’ pencil skirts,” he says, unable to control his words or sharp tone. “The way you wear your hair, that damn look in your eye that constantly makes you seem like you’re beggin’ for it.” 
Katsuki whines, a sharp sound from the back of his throat, as you tighten up around him. He meets your gaze, clouded and watery eyes accented by the delightful furrow in the center of your brow. 
“And then you show up here,” he groans, not even sure of what he’s really saying. “Blouse unbuttoned, looking for trouble. I’m gonna fuck your lights out. ‘Till you can’t even think about fuckin’ anyone else.” 
He leans in close, his mouth right up against yours. 
“This is g’nna make you mine, right?” 
You nod, your movements clumsy, and pull him close to you. 
Katsuki loses all of his sense, burying himself in the feel of your pussy and the way he sinks into you, giving into the desperation of the quirk. He can feel just how deep he’s hitting, the way you suck in sharp, whiny breaths with every inward thrust. Katsuki’s hands grip your waist, pulling your ass up off the couch so that his angle is better. 
His cock seems to drag endlessly against your overstimulated, pillowy, insides and you practically drool around. He feels like a dog slobbering over meat, any semblance of politeness completely gone from both his expression and his movements. This is going to fucking ruin your friendship, but he doesn’t even have half of a mind to think about it, so drawn into the delightful feel of your body and the aching in his cock that only seems to subside slightly with every thrust. 
You try to choke out the word “again” and he feels like he knows what’s coming. Your whole body tenses, legs locking around him as you cream over his cock for the second time. 
This seems to get Katsuki somewhere, the sensation of your pussy clamping down finally giving him some leeway to relief. He hits the edge of an orgasm, leading himself to the finish line. 
The tension in his belly grows, cock twitching inside of your fucked out cunt. His fingers dig into your hips and he collapses forward, rolling his body so that the head of his cock catches perfectly inside of you, massaging and churning you up. You’re moaning, though maybe it’s more adjacent to whining, and Katsuki can hear himself mimicking the sounds, his body leading the way. 
Then finally, on a pathetic and broken whimper, Katsuki cums. His whole body tenses, weight pressing down on you as he buries his face into your neck and lets his voice out beside the hollow of your throat. The relief and pleasure is so intense that Katsuki feels the way every muscle in his body tenses and lets go, filling you up with as much of him as he has to give. 
His hips continue to pathetically rut into you, little choked moans escaping his lips as he uses his own cum as lube for his weak little thrusts. Then, he completely relaxes. 
Katsuki feels the way his skin stops burning, the way the desperation at the back of his throat subsides, how his body rids itself of the quirk as quickly as the arousal came on. He shudders, coming back to himself and raising his head to peer at your expression. 
You look exhausted, hair a mess and face covered in a thick sheen of sweat. You still flutter around his cock, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try and ride through the overstimulation of just having him inside of you. Katsuki furrows his brows, exhaustion creeping into his muscles. He raises his hand and uses it to push stray strands of hair from your face with his palm on your forehead. Then, with a clear mind, he leans forward and kisses you. 
You blink at him for a second, before giving a weak smile, raising your eyebrows and letting your head fall to the side. Katsuki winces when he pulls out of you, sucking in a sharp breath and standing to his full height. He places a hand on his forehead like he’s assessing the situation, staring at your body, still fully clothed with your skirt pushed all the way up your stomach and your blouse missing a button at the top. 
He wordlessly walks to the bathroom and wets a washcloth with warm water, walking back over to you and wiping down the exposed parts of your body. You don’t really say anything to him, but you smile quietly while he gingerly wipes you down, your smeared makeup accenting just how much of a mess he’s made. 
“Fuck,” he says. “I’m sorry, this isn’t how-” 
“How you wanted this to go?” You say softly, the corners of your lips turning up. 
Katsuki feels the way he flushes, all the way to the tops of his chest. 
“No, it’s not,” he admits, running a hand over his face as he crouches beside you. 
You laugh a little and he furrows his brows at you, frustrated and embarrassed. 
“You’ve got a bit of a possessive streak, huh?” You tease lightly.
“I got hit with some asshole’s fuckin’ quirk and-” he begins explaining himself, something he probably should have done when you showed up at the door. 
“It was good though,” you say, tilting your head at him from where you lay.
Katsuki blinks at you, his expression completely flat. You should really know just how fucking crazy you drive him. Then, he scowls a little, not because he’s upset, but because he’s currently feeling the opposite and that makes him awkward. 
“You’re into that shit?” He says, a bit incredulously. 
You shrug and give him a coy smile. 
2K notes · View notes
kenjakusbraincum · 4 months
Note
can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺
You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Vows
Sukuna x Reader
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Word count: 4.5k
Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)
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It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.
You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?
Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.
And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.
So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.
When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.
''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.
''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?
''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.
''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.
But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.
You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''
''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.
''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.
That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.
Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.
It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.
You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.
Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.
''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.
''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.
"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.
Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.
You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.
You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.
"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.
You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.
-
You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.
He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.
"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.
Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"
There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.
"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."
You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.
"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."
You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.
He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?
Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.
-
Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.
He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.
He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.
He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.
You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.
You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''
''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?
''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...
''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''
You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.
Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.
You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.
Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.
''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.
''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.
Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.
Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''
You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.
-
You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.
And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.
He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.
You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.
When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.
He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.
You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.
''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.
He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.
"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."
Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.
The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.
Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.
And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.
Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.
Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.
The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.
Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.
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missnxthingg · 1 month
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I CAN'T LIE TO YOU ✮ LN4
pairing: Lando Norris x bestie!Reader (childhood best friends to lovers) summary: Lando Norris decides to surprise his best friend after being a long time away from home. What she didn't expect was that he had a big secret that he couldn't share with her words: 4.5K - warnings: swearing, suggestive content & not proof read author's notes: I'm back once again! Now you just know I'm a sucker for childhood besties to lovers. Also, I may have already started writing a part two for this one... let me know if you want it!
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The days in England have become more boring with time. Y/N was losing her mind over the repetitive routine that follows the life of a college student. Work, study, beer with close friends and bed. So when her mother invited her for a family dinner, she worried about how excited she got with the event. It wasn’t supposed to be anything special, just her parents and a few of their close friends gathered to catch up over nice food. 
Coming home felt way too good. It’s a feeling most college students get when they go back to their hometown, leaving their crappy flat in university to be served with their parents pampering during their quick visit. Y/N was supposed to be back to her place in just a couple of days, but she felt satisfied to be in a different place than the four walls of her house. Not to mention that she was having a good laugh with everyone at the table.
Her mother always takes dinner parties to another level, serving the best food in her special crockery, saved for moments like this. So Y/N packed a nice new outfit; a cute long-sleeved dress that looked perfect with tights and heels. Not that the guests cared about how she was dressed, but it felt nice to look beautiful and all put together for once after months of hoodies and leggings.
As usual, her parents invited the Norris family, as they’ve been the best of friends for the longest time. Not only they lived next to each other for years back when she was younger, all of their kids were really close friends with Y/N. But the spotlight always goes to Lando, who is the same age as her, making them grow up attached to the hip.
They all grew up going to the same school, not to mention that she would always tag along in Lando and his brother’s karting sessions, having the best time watching them drive flawlessly on tracks. He always enjoyed the times when she’d steal her parents cameras so they could make some homemade videos of their time together. Or when they would sit back, watch their dads play golf every Saturday and share candies in the cart. 
  Y/N and Lando have been inseparable since the age of four, growing up side by side, going through everything together. She was so important to him that, when he joined Formula 1 and had to choose a number to race, he chose the age the two of them had become friends. 
“The number four is for my best friend, Y/N. She was the one to suggest it, and the meaning behind it is very cute. Actually, I don’t want to tell you to not spoil anything, but I can only say that it’s very dear to my heart”, Lando said once in an interview during his second season in F1, making every single one of his fans curious about the meaning.
But it’s been a while since the infamous duo had been together. They supported each other from afar; Y/N sometimes joining him for race weekends and Lando coming back to see her on birthdays and weekends in London, while he visited the McLaren factory. But the last time they had been together was four months ago, during summer break, when he dragged her to join him for his crazy trips around the world. When racing and university was back on, they lost a little bit of touch; almost no calls and only a few texting breaks so they wouldn’t fall apart.
A lot happened in those four months. Lando had a new gorgeous girlfriend; a model who everyone had become obsessed with her TikTok videos for beauty tips. They had been seen together a few times around the world, her joining him for the races and a lot of make-outs behind DJ booths at parties. Y/N, on the other hand, was lacking in the dating department. But the friends she made over the past year made everything worthy. After years of pretty much having Lando as her only very close friend, she finally found new people to go out and have fun as a normal 20-year-old.
With that, Y/N and Lando’s friendship got weird. He had been avoiding her for a while, with the excuse of being too busy with racing, but actually not wanting to talk about his personal life with someone who knew him like the palm of her hand. Meanwhile, she was having a good time with her friends to be bothered by anything. But lately, life had become more boring and Y/N felt like having Lando back would bring some more fun into her life again, with all the epic parties and the good times they always managed to happen.
“Only one month left”, she thought, as winter break was approaching, meaning that Lando would finally be free to come home for the holidays.
She was pushed out of her thoughts by Adam Norris, who now seemed interest in Y/N’s life after a long catching up with her dad. “Tell us more about college! Are you having fun? Learning anything special?”, he asked with a kind smile.
“Oh, I’m graduating this spring, so it’s been… rough”, she chuckled. “But everything has been amazing, you know? The internship is so cool and the people are nice as well”.
“I just can’t believe it will all be over soon”, his wife, Cisca, responded. “It feels like it was just yesterday when you joined uni and Lando started his first season in F1. Time really flies, uhm?”
Every mention of his name made Y/N smile like a fool. But lately, it has been accompanied by a ting of pain on her chest. God, she missed him so much.
“What is it that you miss?”, Cisca asked, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. Shit, did she say that out loud?
“I said I missed your pie so much, Cis. You know I have always loved it growing up”, Y/N tried to cover it up by stuffing her mouth with the cheesy pie, trying to keep her thoughts of being spoken out loud. But something caught her by surprise.
“Yeah, mum’s pie is the best in the world, isn’t it?”, a male voice said from behind her, one that she hadn’t heard in person for a while. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was, only to turn around and see Lando standing right behind her tugged into his signature comfortable hoodie, with a giant smile plastered on his face, and a bouquet in his hands. “Surprise!”
Y/N brought her hands up to her mouth, trying not to cry at the sight. She couldn’t believe what was standing in front of her. So she jumped out of her seat and jumped into his arms, not caring about anyone else in the room or the flowers being crumpled up in his hands. Lando buried his nose in her hair, taking in her scent, making him feel at ease for once
“What are you doing here?”, she leaned back, holding his face between her hands. His soft eyes looked down at her, his smile never faltering.
“I thought I could surprise my best girl”, he admitted, digging one of his hands into her hips, making her securely close to him. “I had a break before the end of the season, and it had been so long…”
“Shut up, you idiot. I just want to hug you”, she cut him mid-sentence, burying her face in his neck, making his smile even wider, if that was possible. Everyone on the table laughed at her reaction, but let them have their moment after months without seeing each other. It felt too good to be true. 
“I missed you so much”, he whispered in her ear, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head.
“I missed you too. Welcome home, Lan”, she leaned back and kissed his cheek, making it tinted red. Lando was so cute when he blushed. “You brought me flowers! How cute is this?”
She took the giant bouquet filled with red and pink roses out of his hands, bringing it close to her body. “It’s an apology for not being here as much as I should”, he said, making her heart so warm with the thoughtful gift.
“You being here is enough”, she pressed another kiss to his cheek and quickly pulled him for another hug. They just couldn’t get enough of each other.
“Alright, we all know you both really miss each other, but you can catch up after dinner. Food is getting cold and poor Lando must be starving”, her mother cut them off, making Y/N look back at the table, her face burning in embarrassment. He laughed at her behavior and pulled the chair next to her so they could sit together.
Through the whole dinner, Lando told all of his amazing stories traveling the world, leaving all the ‘best friends only’ parts for later, when he would be alone with Y/N. She felt so happy to finally have him by her side, making fun of her table manners, resting his hand on her knee and cracking any bad jokes just to see her roll her eyes. And even though he lived those many adventures, Lando knew life couldn’t get better than having his favourite person in the world back on his side.
“So, Lando, what finally brings you back home?”, Y/N’s father asked, making him shrug.
“You know, the championship could’ve been better and I feel really tired, you know?”, Lando searched for his best friend’s hand under the table, entwining their fingers once they met. Then he looked at her with an adoring smile on his face. “I just need some recharging. Thought I could use some home time before the last few races of the year”.
“You’re always welcomed to recharge in our house if you want to, Lando”, her mother said before the conversation was taken somewhere else once again.
While everyone else chatted, Y/N and Lando updated their phone gallery with new pictures of them. A lot of cute selfies and pictures of their homemade dinner which soon found their place on their Instagrams.
y/username
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liked by landonorris and 3,419 others
y/username: always feels good to have my best friend back in the house
tagged: landonorris
landonorris Besties reunited LFG!
↪ y/username you’re such a bore
fanacc1 FINALLY SOME Y/N AND LANDO CONTENT
fanacc2 Wasn’t him dating a model?
↪fanacc3 He is, but Y/N is his childhood best friend
fanacc4 ugh, if i was his gf, i would be so jealous of them together
↪fanacc5 I bet his girlfriend actually hates them
fanacc6 Does this mean more Y/N around the paddock?
The dinner was coming to an end with the delicious sweet treats they prepared for dessert. At that point, Lando and Y/N were just existing at the conversation. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and she found a comfortable spot to lean into him and keep sipping on her wine while they shared a slice of cake. But even though they were quiet, they surely weren’t tired. So as the rest of the adults continued with their chat, they took their glasses of wine to the backyard, just so they could have some alone time.
Lando chuckled when he saw what was still standing strong in her backyard. “You still have our old treehouse?”, he asked and she nodded excitedly. “Wow, it looks so much nicer than before”.
“It’s because I renovated it, you fool. Haven’t I told you?”, she asked, but Lando shook his head. “Oh my… you have to see this! Now it’s a grown up treehouse! Take a look”.
Y/N dragged him to the small construction and made him climb all the way up to the house. It changed a lot with the renovations. Their wall doodles from when they were little kids were preserved by a varnish coat on the wood. She also substituted the old toys for books and her collection of vinyls, making the place look extra cozy. There was even a table for afternoon tea and card games, a TV and a huge futon, with lots of cushions, so they could just lie down and spend the rest of the day hidden from the world.
“What a glow up!”, he joked. “I loved it. This is amazing”, Lando took a place next to the window, where the moonlight invaded the room. Y/N sat next to him and almost immediately pulled out her camera just to capture the moment. And just like old times, they had fun doing a tiny photoshoot together, only to be cut off by his mom, calling them from the ground.
“Are you coming, Lando?”, Cisca asked, making him look over to Y/N, who replied for him.
“I’m not letting him go anywhere, Cisca”, she joked, throwing her arms around Lando, making his mother laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your son”.
“Have fun you two”, they waved at her and sighed after finally being left alone for a proper catching up between best friends. Lando had a satisfied smile on his face and he felt so calm at that moment. He threw both of his arms around his best friend and hugged her tightly.
“Home, at last”, his cheek was pressed on the side of her face, making her giggle with the contact. “I want to know everything going on with you. Just blurt it all out. I owe you this”.
“Oh, nothing great happened”, she shrugged. “Nothing that you didn’t know already. The internship is nice, but it’s coming to an end soon and I’m not sure they’ll keep me with them. And college is almost finished, so that’s kind of bittersweet”.
“I thought you were excited to have a degree”, he said, making her sigh. “Are you not happy about graduating?”
“Of course I am. You more than anyone knows how important this is to me”, she answered. “And I made so many good friends and I’ve been having the best time with them. I know graduating will make us grow apart”.
“Endings aren’t always nice, uhm? But you have to look at the bright side of things”, he started. “You’re finally achieving something great and you managed to have a really good time along the way. Made friends and worked really hard to become the best professional out there. I’m so proud of you!”
Lando has always been her biggest supporter on pursuing her academic path. He remembers all the talks they had about her wanting to master in communications. While he didn’t get to finish school to up his game in racing, he was there for every step his best friend took until enrolling in university. So when they talk about it, he always has that beautiful proud smile on his face, to which Y/N loved seeing.
“Thank you”, she smiled shyly. “And what about you, Mr Worldwide? You’ve been everywhere these past months. How was it?”
“Oh, always amazing”, he beamed. “I got to see so many amazing places around the world. You would’ve loved all the clubs I went to. The DJ booths are amazing. Oh, and the golf courts… breathtaking”.
“Yeah, I saw all the pictures”, Y/N arched her brows and rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even bother on calling, telling me about your adventures”.
“Sorry, I lacked in that department”, he apologized. “Even though everything has been amazing, I’m so tired of this year. I could’ve done better on the track and the last few races have been exhausting. I knew that I needed to recharge before the last two races, so I came back to you”.
“It’s always a pleasure to have you home”, she ran her hand through his curls and smiled. Lando always saw Y/N as his home. She always brings him that sense of familiarity, and her absence in his travels around the world were taking a toll on him.
Not to mention that hiding a big secret from his best friend also wasn’t doing him any good.
“But I’m not here to talk about me. I want to know everything about you”, he poked her side with his index finger and smirked. “Anyone special appeared in your life in the past few months?”
“Please”, she rolled her eyes. “The last time I had a proper hook up was during our summer trip to Bali with that guy on the club”.
“Come on, it can’t be that bad”, he giggled, but Y/N’s face was burning in embarrassment.
“I had a few dates in the past months, but fuck me, they were annoying”, Lando laughed at her statement. “One of them found out you’re my best friend and spent the entire time asking questions about you. And the only guy who was actually decent came in his pants when we were making out in his car. Didn’t even get to touch me”. 
“Oh, poor you”, he giggled. “So no boy to be my new best friend? I mean, come on, we need more male energy in this friendship”.
“Sorry, Lan. No boyfriend this time”, she said. “You, on the other hand, started dating this gorgeous model and forgot to tell me about everything.”
And there she said it: the topic Lando had been avoiding the most throughout the whole night. He really didn’t want to talk about it with Y/N, because his big secret had been hiding right there. He knew he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, lie about anything to her. And he also knew that he really needed to vent about this secret with her as well.
Lando turned really quiet, and looked away, avoiding her eyes. “Don’t start now, Y/N. I mean, there’s not much to say, to be fair”, he mumbled.
“Come on, I want to know everything about the woman who stole my bestie’s heart”, she poked him, but Lando didn’t dare to look Y/N in the eyes. “I mean, everybody loves her and she seems sweet. Why don’t you want to tell me about her?”
“Because we’re not together”.
“What do you mean? I’ve seen the Instagram pictures and the gossip pages posting videos of you two kissing in the club. I thought you were becoming a thing”.
“Y/N, don’t push it”, he asked, his voice bargaining on his throat.
“Why don’t you want to tell me about her?”
“Because we’re not together, I told you”, he sighed. “She’s a PR stunt. She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s been consuming me from the inside ever since we started this little thing”.
Lando finally looked her in the eyes and Y/N saw them brimming with tears. As an immediate response, she rested a hand on his arm and waited until he was ready to talk more. He leaned into her touch and the tears started to stream down his face. He’s never one to cry for anything, so the tears meant that it was so much more than he was letting show. Her heart broke at the sight of her best friend.
“Is this why you look more tired than usual?”, Y/N asked and he nodded, making the tears fall harder. “Oh, Lan… Come here”.
She pulled his head to rest on her chest and Lando wrapped his arms around her, needing some sort of comfort. He didn’t say much for a couple of minutes after, feeling his heart aching on his chest. He wanted to talk about everything with Y/N, because he knew she would understand him. He always feels vulnerable and safe enough to talk about anything with his best friend. 
“Everything is so fucked up, Y/N”, Lando cried out. “God, I can’t take this fake relationship anymore. Do you know how disgusting it feels to pretend to be in love with someone you’re not? And to lie to everyone, hiding it from my parents. From you. I can’t stand it”
“I’m sure you have a good reason to be doing so”, she said, fingers running through his curls and making him sure that she was right there with him. Y/N felt his fingers clinging tighter onto her. “You’re just doing your job and that’s okay. This won’t last forever”.
“I feel so lonely, you know? I was doing so bad on the last few races and I missed home so much. I missed talking to my dad and hugging my mom. I missed making fun of my sisters and going for a drive with my brother. And I missed you so much. I wish I could just stay here for a long while”.
“Soon you’ll get to be here for as long as you want, baby”, Y/N pressed a kiss on top of his head and Lando sighed in comfort. It ached a little less with her there. “And we’ll get to spend so much time together. You can come over and we’ll have sleepovers. We can take the car, drive around and go clubbing until sunrise. Whatever you want”.
“God, it would be so easy if it was you”, he whispered, still holding onto her as if his life depended on it. What did he mean with that? Just those single words made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. Truth is, while her heart ached for her best friend, she was relieved he’s not in love with someone else. Did he have feelings for her? 
“You know, I looked over my so-called girlfriend one night while we were hanging out at the club and I wanted to shout to everyone that it was all an act. She’s like a solid reminder of how lonely I am all the damn time. It’s ridiculous”, he grunted. 
“Come on, look at me”, Y/N pulled his face to look up and held his head between her hands. “Lan, you are never alone, okay? Even if you feel like you are, and even if I’m not there physically, you know that I’m always with you. I’m right here”, she rested a hand over his heart, making him smile through his tears. “I've been in your heart since the moment we met”.
“I…”, he started, but couldn’t get to say the rest. After all this time, Lando was afraid that the next move would ruin their friendship forever. But looking her in the eyes, comforting him through this rough time, he knew she felt the same. “I love you, Y/N”.
She was expecting anything. ‘I know’, maybe. That was so much bigger than what she imagined. Lando had said he loved her countless times over the years they’ve known each other; after all, they grew up together, almost like brother and sister. But this time, it was different. Y/N knew it, and Lando knew it too.
Y/N was too stunned to speak, so he continued with his confession. “I always have, you know? And I only hid everything from you because I can’t lie to you. And because I thought you’d never look at me the same way if you found out”.
“Lando, I…” she stopped mid-sentence, trying to catch some air. “Fuck, this is a lot. Just wait a second”.
They giggled together and he leaned his forehead against hers. “It’s okay to not say anything right now. I just dropped a giant bomb on your lap. This wasn’t the way I wanted to confess to you, but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore”.
“Are you saying this because you’re emotional? Because I swear to God, if you are, I’m gonna kill you for misleading me”, her eyes were brimming with tears and Lando whipped them away.
“I’m telling you the truth”, he assured. “I think I’ve loved you my entire life. With all the crazy things I’ve experienced in my life, you were the only constant. You’re home, Y/N”.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”, she asked and he took a deep breath.
“Because I was afraid of losing you. Scared this might ruin our friendship somehow”, he admitted. “You’re the most precious thing in my life. Do you know how scary it is to fall in love with your best friend when you’re just a kid? And then grow up, and those feelings never go away, just getting stronger every day. I just didn’t want to lose you”.
“You weren’t going to lose me, Lan”, her eyes softened at his confession and now he was the one wiping her tears. Y/N brought him back for a hug and even though he didn’t have an answer, deep down he knew she felt the same.
“I’ve loved you since we were four. There’s a reason why I always carry this number with me”, Lando confessed. “God, look what you do to me. I never cry”.
“You only cry for the important things”, she reminded. “That’s why I love you, Lando. I’ve been in love with you for my entire life too, idiot”.
His eyes widened as he looked up to her, who had a smirk plastered on her face. “Can I kiss you?”, Lando asked, but before she could properly shake her head in agreement, he crashed his lips into hers. He needed to be home, and Y/N has always been home for him. It was the most intense kiss they ever had, like years of lingering had finally paid off for both of them.
Lando pulled her closer with a hand on the back of her head. She wrapped her fingers around his neck, smiling into his lips. Then, as if it wasn't enough, he pulled her to sit on lap, making them closer somehow. She slowed down the pace, making the kiss needier and more delicious. Lando even let out a satisfied throaty moan, his heart speeding on his chest. Her touches made him feral, knowing that after years of pinning, he finally had his dream girl.
“Thank you for this”, he whispered against her lips, a wide and satisfied smile on his face. “Thank you for all the years, all the times you've been here for me, to tell me everything is going to be alright.”
“Always, Lan”, she played with the hairs on his nape. “I love you so much”.
“I love you too. So much”, he left one more peck on her lips before hugging her again. “I don't know what I'd do without you”.
“Yeah, me too”.
The story of how they fell in love with each other was long, but beautiful. Lando and Y/N sat in that tree house all night and shared all of those stories with each other. And for a second, he really believed everything was going to work out. After all, if he had Y/N, Lando would be just fine.
❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁
⤿ add yourself to the taglist!
Lando Taglist - @celestialams @lizaschronicles @kapsylia @igotnorrrizz @hiireadstuff @bishhhitsaurion
*Bold means I can't tag you! Send me a DM so we can solve it out
1K notes · View notes
archonsabyss · 2 months
Text
╰─..✶. [ Artist, and their Muse ]
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❒ pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader
❒ genre: smut [nsfw 18+]! fluff! romance
❒ warnings: shy virgin reader! first time sex! softdom rafayel! fingering! vaginal sex! unprotected sex! nudity! teasing! orgasm denial! vague mention of blood!
❒ word count: 4.5k
─❒ authors note: when the words keep flowing you end with a 4k+ fic. anyways, enjoy soft dom rafayel. smut took 10yrs of my life to write. It was so hard and frustrating. Hurt my wrists trying to finish this with the way I'm keeping my phone hah. Enjoy 💜
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Amidst the quiet solitude of his art studio, you found yourself unexpectedly forced backwards as Rafayel approached with an unreadable glint in his eyes. You couldn't help but feel flustered and surrender under the look he gave you as he gradually closed the distance, compelling you to place a hand on his chest in an attempt to maintain a level of distance that was not merely enough to calm the rapid beating of your heart.
"You're so close" Your gaze avoids meeting his, and the flames of desire surge as soon as he steps near. The moment felt strangely intimate with your fingers delicately pressing against the cotton material of his shirt and his round beady eyes seeking yours. Rafayel didn't beckon you solely to fetch his favourite dinner, especially when he had a personal chef at his disposal and a perfectly functioning phone to order it himself. The evidence of his little white lie became apparent as he nudged you backward while striding ahead.
"Close?" He queries, seemingly not understanding what you meant and his brows furrowed in contemplation, his gaze dancing over your countenance absorbing every nuance as if seeking inspiration to craft a portrait of your essence. There was a common misconception about Rafayel's passionate character– it wasn't easy to navigate, leading most people to misread his character or feel inundated by his eccentric personality. Meeting up with him as often as you did, led you to such a conclusion. Time with Rafayel was a constant experience in itself, particularly for someone like you who normally shied away and often felt nervous around such bright personalities. You were a stark contrast to his entire existence and at times you left torn between the desire to strangle him and the impulse to pinch his cheeks, yet despite the unfamiliarity of it; his spirited flirting and teasing with seemingly effortless wit, he remained easy-going which rendered any time spent together devoid of awkward tension, and as time passed you came to accept that it was the undeniable allure about him.
"Do you hate me?" His sudden question takes you by surprise, but the genuineness in it absolutely baffles you. There were only a few rare instances when Rafayel's witty persona faded away completely, unveiling a calmer and more serious demeanour beneath. His lips didn't form their usual smile rather they grew more serious, and his shoulders deflated rather than puffed up, contrasting with the usual clingy sassiness of his character. This was one of those nights where he laid himself utterly bare without restraints and it was evident in the way his eyes were solely fixated on you as he anticipated a response.
"Where did that come from?" You wrinkled your nose. "What makes you ask such a ridiculous question, Rafayel?"
"It's not ridiculous!" He exclaims, his boisterous personality momentarily slipping away before he clears his throat. "You hate me"
"Says who?!"
"Says your body language" He refutes, pouting.
"I don't hate you" You vigorously shake your head. What made him think you hated him?
"I'd beg to differ"
For a fleeting moment, your attention shifts from the minimal distance between you as you narrow your eyes scrutinizingly at him. While he always had a flair for the dramatic, this time it felt genuinely serious.
"What are you on about, Rafa"
Sensing the impending embarrassment of his rationale, his ears turn red and he wordlessly grabs your hand from his chest and brings it to his cheek, letting you feel the heat emanating from his skin.
"Rafayel" You swallow, growing flustered under such an intimate act. He attempts to dismiss the way you pronounce his name but he fails as it echoes in his ears with an undeniable submission. He turns his head, and his lips meet the skin of your palm, planting a gentle kiss. You repeat his name a few times but he refuses to meet your eyes, focusing solely on the way your palm cradles his cheek. It's when you try to pull away, does he finally meets your gaze with narrowed eyes, remarking, "See, you do hate me." as his grip on your hand remains unyielding.
"I don't understand what you mean"
"You do"
"But I don't" You insist, and Rafayel rolls his eyes in annoyance, "Tell me why you think I hate you?"
He huffs and confesses with a pointed tone, "Every time I try to touch you, you pull back. Clearly, my existence is truly despised if you retreat at every opportunity," He remarks sarcastically and you're caught off guard with a problem you never expected. Your heart gets entangled, growing intensely flustered with such a confession.
What if Rafayel knew his advances were rebuffed solely because you were cautious not to misinterpret his intentions or inadvertently lead yourself on?
Lost in your thoughts, you feel your cheeks burning with heat. It takes Rafayel snapping his fingers in front of you to bring you back down to earth.
"What?" He scoffs as you stare at him. "Admitting you hate me? That's your loss, I couldn't care less. There are a thousand other fish in the sea! A million other girls out there in the world who would die to be kissed by me! Who cares if the one girl I want doesn't want me, right? My existence is just a nuisance to you."
Throughout his incessant rambling, the pout on his lips becomes increasingly noticeable and the words he utters do not match the emotions he's experiencing. In reality, his heart is gradually shattering into pieces at your silence, feeling as though he's facing rejection.
Never before in your life have you taken the initiative on your own accord but now it feels necessary. You extend your hand to cup the right side of his face and gently turn it towards you. Your thumb strokes his cheek in circular motions as you strive to maintain eye contact despite the shyness tempting you to look away.
"I don't hate you, Rafayel" You confess earnestly.
"Could have fooled me"
"I'm not lying, you jerk"
"Your wounds hurt me. Then tell me why you avoided me like the plague. Why didn't you accept my hand when I opened the car door for you? Why didn't you allow me to rest my chin on your shoulder at the art gallery? Why did you resist when I wanted to show you how to stroke the paintbrush to create a gradient? Why did you avert your head when I attempted to give you a goodbye kiss on the cheek? Why didn't you let me feed you? And recently, why did you try to pull your hand away from my face"
He was giving you a headache. Honest to God his rambling was excessive and you weren't sure if you even got all that but you nodded along.
"I'm not like you Rafayel. Those things... I didn't─"
"Didn't what?" He persists.
"I didn't want to misinterpret things. I'm not as straightforward and upfront with gestures like you are. If I took your hand, I feared I wouldn't want to let go. If you rested your chin on my shoulder, the distance would become unbearable. If you taught me to paint, there'd be no reason to linger in your art studio, pretending I'm there to learn. And if you kissed my cheek, who's to say I wouldn't want more? And if you fed me... I might just have to adopt you and fit you in my little fish tank."
"The fish jokes are getting old. And besides, Cucumber is perfectly content in his tiny bowl, a little overfed but fine nonetheless; I can't believe you'd consider evicting him." He points out, and out of everything you said, that's the only thing he focuses on. You nudge his shoulder harshly in response.
"Maybe you have a point. Maybe I should just get a cat"
Rafayel freezes, head snapping at you. "You wouldn't dare"
You nod, challenging him, and your sudden boldness catches him off guard. "I certainly would."
"See, it's a blatant display of animosity. I'll reclaim ownership of Cucumber."
"You can't do that, Raf." You find yourself suppressing a smile.
"I will."
"No," You frowned, "I love that fish."
"More than me, it seems."
"Can't I love you and Cucumber both?"
"So you love me?" He blinks, his knack for selectively responding to specific remarks astounds you.
"Maybe I should just leave. Your sudden personality shifts are giving me a headache."
"No," He seizes your wrist and presses you against the desk behind you. A tin of paint topples off the edge and spews its contents. While you gaze at the mess Rafayel fixates on you.
"You love me"
You retreat into your shell. "No"
"You just said you love me! If you deny it, I'll think you actually hate me"
"I'm not sure if it's love just yet, but it's something," You admit hastily, not wanting to restart the conversation and contend with his overwhelming persistence.
"Guess I can work with that" Rafayel is oddly compliant all of a sudden and it makes you suspicious. The entire situation is confusing and feels dubious. It's unclear what's happening between you two, and it almost feels normal like every other conversation you've had, if not for the underlying tension building between your chests and lower halves.
"Rafayel, what are you doing?" You frantically inquire, your heart betraying you as it beats rapidly with every centimetre he closes between you. Rafayel inclines his face towards you and you turn your head to the side with closed eyes as he hovers beyond the boundaries of personal space. His nose delicately traced the contour of your jaw, forming a constellation from your chin to your earlobe, and you can feel every measured inhale and exhale he makes while your breath is momentarily suspended. "Rafayel" You mutter his name in protest yet again, not refuting your enjoyment of his actions but sensing the irregular thumping of your heart you fear you might lose consciousness.
"What are you doing"
"Evading your personal space"
"Yeah l─" You inhale sharply, "I can tell, but why?"
Rafayel stops for a second. "Since you don't hate me for the moment, I plan to take advantage of being this close to you"
"H-How many times must I tell you, I didn't hate you"
"Yeah, yeah whatever. I'm not moving" He prattles, rolling his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. "Do I make you flustered?"
The way you're holding your breath makes it evident, but he wants to hear it directly from your lips so your muster a weak, "Yes"
He nods and smiles with approval. "Now tell me, do you actually want me to move away?"
"No"
Your obedience kindles a thrilling excitement within him, like a flame fueled by your compliance. Each nod and acquiescence adds to the anticipation and it makes his heart beat in rhythm with your submission.
"Can I kiss you?" A lingering hush punctuated by the rush of blood surging in your ears envelops the space after he requests consent, and you nod your head instinctively, agreeing before your thoughts or words can be articulated. The anticipation hangs thick in the air as you await the slow descent of his lips and your gaze flitted, searching for something in his eyes that bore unwaveringly into yours with a depth that is slowly becoming your undoing.
Pulled in by an imperceptible force, Rafayel bridges the gap and meets your lips in a fervent kiss with a passion you've never encountered before. When his mouth slots against yours, an intricate play of uncertainty, desire, and experimentation ensues. Time seemed to stand still, suspended in the dance of your entwined souls.
Rafayel's hands tenderly cradle your cheeks, tilting your head back while pressing his body against yours as he angles his head to kiss you with a deeper sense of passion that renders you flustered and breathless when he eventually pulls away. The birds' melodious chirps seem to celebrate this unexpected blossoming of romance as if their song is a serenade to the newfound connection that has finally come together. You meet Rafayel's gaze with a timidity he yearns to unravel. He wants to pull you right back into another kiss and lavish you with myriad praises. He wants to take you by the hand and lead you to his room where he can tenderly place you on his bed and express the depth of his desire to love you.
His infatuation lies in the unspoken words that crash upon him like a sudden wave against the shoreline, threatening to erode the restraints he struggled to maintain. The weight of unsaid wishes presses on him and the carefully constructed barriers seem on the verge of slipping away in the face of overwhelming longing. "Rafayel." Has any human voice ever sounded sweeter? It lures him into a sense of desperation, enchanting him to the point where he feels compelled to kiss you again.
In a matter of seconds, any other words you had to offer to fade into the collision of his lips against yours. Your mouth opens willingly, his warm hands cradling your face once more as the kiss intensifies with his sweet tongue swiftly intertwining with yours. He has you exactly where he wants. The fact that you can’t help but lean into him is like a triumph for him. The way you willingly succumb to him is something he can't get enough of, and all he craves is to lead you to ecstasy. He wants more, and the moans escaping him make it abundantly clear.
"I want you, Rafayel... So bad" You confess, overcoming shyness. Rafayel's eyes widen with curiosity, and his lower lip protrudes with a gentle breath as he lets out a whining sigh, "Finally! And just so you know, there's no going back" He cautions, a warning lingering in his words as he shifts his hands to your hips, giving them a reassuring squeeze. You're inclined to nod your head, grappling mentally with the weight of your confession. Yet, it doesn't change the undeniable truth that you want this, you want him, and that was all he needed to hear to lead you to the expansive couch positioned near the extensive glass window at the far end of the studio, the closest comfortable spot for what lay ahead.
You were inexperienced and jittery, nerves causing a slight tension in your posture, but Rafayel as always, was there to alleviate any tension just as he's done in the past. He seats himself on the couch, spreads his legs and rolls his hips for comfort, the bulge in his pants evident and a testament to your plea. There are a few buttons of his shirt undone revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin. He raises but a singular brow wondering why you're still standing idly when his legs have parted specifically for you.
"Well?" He mused and you reply, "What?"
"Come here"
Your feet carry you forward before your mind comprehends, and the next thing you know, Rafayel has you seated atop him. He flinches at the contact of you on his bulge but quickly wipes away any sign of discomfort when he notices your worried expression, thinking you might have hurt him.
"Wait" He suddenly blurts, "Stand up"
You do with hesitancy and his fingers loop into your pants and tug you forward. "I'm going to take these off," He says, and you blush hard, feeling a surge of arousal course through your veins. You observe as he unbuttons the top of your pants with intricate fingers, sliding them down your legs leaving you half-bare. His eyes glint mischievously as he peers up at you through his eyelashes, his face in line with your lower half as he remains seated on the couch.
"One of these days I'm going to eat you out" He grins, and you struggle to resist the urge to moan.
Rafayel instructs you to turn around, guiding you to perch on his lap and you comply. He encourages you to relax and lean against his chest. His hands then place on your knees and part them enough for the cool air to breeze between your legs. Your panties cling uncomfortably and a wave of heat courses through your body.
"Breathe," He chuckles, sensing the tension in your body as he pulls down your panties, and you gasp as a rush of cold air greets you.
"I've never done this before, Rafayel"
His hands inch closer to your core, "Just breathe, baby" He whispers as his index finger delicately traces the contours of your pussy. "I'll go slow. It'll feel good, promise"
You inhale deeply, finding your inner courage and trusting him entirely. At first, Rafayel entered with just a single finger. You gasp, your body yielding to his touch. His finger explores delicately between your folds ensuring no harm as he starts tracing circles around your sensitive bud. Your brows pinch in response to his movements, your back arching as your fists look for something to grab. Rafayel grins, redirecting your hand to the nape of his neck while his fingers tease your clit, and as you grasp onto him for support he presses on your stomach to prevent your back from arching away. There is no doubt in your fuzzy mind that Rafayel exhibits the same level of concentrated energy and finesse in propelling you to new heights as he does in his artworks. Every movement he makes is precise, mirroring the precision of his painting technique, akin to the deliberate strokes of a paintbrush caressing a canvas. The interplay of his unpredictable movements and irrational spur of inspiration, coupled with the graceful gestures of his hand, harmonizes and forges an experience transcending the boundaries of conventional perception, leaving you with a sensation unlike any you've encountered before.
He will be your undoing, and all it takes is a single finger toying with your heat. You can't take the suspension any longer and shamelessly beg for more, his name leaving your lips desperately. He can't deny you like you've denied him and listens, inserting another finger but this time with less gentleness, employing his thumb to stroke small circles on your clit. A breathy sigh escaped your lips as his fingertips tentatively yet deliberately traced your slick folds from bottom to top. He kissed your neck, feeling a surge of arousal run to his cock leaking precum beneath you.
"Enjoying yourself?" He feels the need to comment when your nails dig into his neck but you're too fucked to comprehend anything he's saying which makes him chuckle into your ear and picked up his movements. You squirm in his grasp, tension building in your stomach, thighs aching, yet the impending pressure refuses to ease as he pulls back every time you think you might explode.
He withdraws his fingers, admiring with pride the glistening evidence of your cum coating them while a moan is forcefully drawn from your throat at the sudden emptiness and build-up within your stomach just beginning for release. You exclaim his name as he cleans his fingers with a pop by sucking on them.
In a blurry flip of the moment, Rafayel swiftly scoops you into his arms and pivots you around, settling you onto your back as he gradually lowers himself on top of you. He kisses you hard and takes your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he settles between you. After months of resisting and denying your feelings, this is what it led to.
"You drive me fucking insane" He exhales sharply as your thighs tighten around him and your hands slip under his thin shirt. He's unable to bear the barriers between you any longer and kisses you one final time before breaking away to discard his pants and remove his shirt. He does the same with the remainder of your clothes, unbuttoning your shirt haphazardly and tossing it across the room where it sadly lands amidst a dissaray of paint he hasn't cleaned up.
Rafayel hovers over you, staring down at your face and running his hands over your body. He groaned, the warmth seeping into his groin as he pulsed and ached with the need to be inside of your tight body. He positioned himself at your entrance and observed as your face twisted in pleasure. Then, he murmured soothingly as he drew closer and penetrated you, causing every muscle in your body to tense as you cried out and gripped onto his shoulders, the soles of your feet digging into his back.
"Rafayel! It hurts" You mutter with a headshake, stifling a sob and he nods, pausing his movements and stroking your cheek. He bends down, planting a tender kiss on your lips, muffling the gentle whimpers you emit. He remains in that position for a while before inquiring, "Does it still hurt?"With shameless selfishness, Rafayel exercised restraint throughout, feeling the tight grip of your pussy squeezing his throbbing cock and it drove him insane.
Fuck─ he wanted to ravish you.
“No─ N-Not really anymore.” You eventually responded with a gulp permitting him to continue. His earlier edging was a prelude to this, as your arousal coated your intimacy forming a natural lubricant. Rafayel proceeded to push deeper into you and your reaction remained most responsive.
Inch by inch, you took him in.
"That feels good" You moaned shamelessly and Rafayel attached his lips to your throat, bringing an otherworldly kind of ecstasy to you. Slowly, he sunk deeper into you. The initial discomfort of being stretched and filled gives way to overwhelming realms of pleasure coursing through your senses.
“It feels so good” You whine as he rolls his hips, biting his lip to contain a semblance of his sanity.
"I've had dreams of this" He admits, loving the way you're so willing to take him in even with the initial discomfort. "Dreams of you. My muse. You were right, after getting a taste I doubt I can ever be without you."
You nod your head weakly and Rafayel slides his hands into yours intertwining your fingers just as he bottoms out in you. "Shh," He quieted you with a gentle whisper, slowly commencing a gentle rhythmic thrust of his hips providing you with a moment to adjust. Yet, impatience took over and you rolled your hips, emitting a moan at the euphoric sensation that left your eyes rolling. Before long, Rafayel has undeniably picked him his pace and his actions are now characterized by a precise execution of snapping his hips against yours, his cock reaching the deepest recesses within you, and as he gains speed his thrusts delve even deeper, and your responses become increasingly animated. Your hands explored every inch of his shoulders, torso, through his hair and down his back. Your lips parted with each heaving breath he drew from your chest, while his lips fervently sucked on your neck.
The delightful singing of your moans, the way your face twisted in pain and pleasure, and when you constantly arched your back and found a rhythm in rolling your hips to meet his, Rafayel could hold himself back no longer and pumped his cock into your walls, infiltrating and memorizing every crevice. Upon seeing your breasts shake with the movement and your mouth agape, he pulled out and thrust right back in with a force that eroded any lingering shreds of dignity.
Still, you had the nerve to bite your lip and smile so seductively at him, saying, “It feels so good.”
Then and there, Rafayel knew that you weren't the demure innocent little fish ensnared in his trap from the start; you were the prey, teasing the hunter with the knowledge that escape was within your grasp, unmarred.
"Taking me all" He chuckles without mirth, a hint of the devil reflecting in the crimson hue within his amethyst eyes. "Such a good girl, aren't you little one"
The faint glint of his fangs becomes apparent when he smiles, tempting you to passionately kiss him at the mere sight.
God, you were so wet, so soaked for him.Rafayel cradled your face in the palm of his right hand, attuned to the clenching of your muscles around him and the loud explicit squelching of his cock driving into you. He sensed the imminent arrival of your climax.
"Cum for me" He demands softly and you can't refuse him, can't refuse the way he holds you as his cock pumps into you. And you cum hard and fast, your body convulsing in response.
Your head droops back listlessly as do your hands, and Rafayel's grin widens as if he's stumbled upon the perfect canvas for his artistry. Words seemingly elude your mind to articulate such an experience. It was transformative, stripping away every vestige of shyness and leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Your release trickles out, enveloping his shaft, propelling him towards his climax. Rafayel thrusts his member deeply into you, and with a groan intertwined with a whine, he climaxes inside you, filling you without mercy to the absolute brim.
"Fuck" He whines, his forehead pressing against yours as his body collapses onto you, ensconced within the comfort of your embrace. Together, you climax and ride out your high as your essence intertwines and spills out between you onto the luxurious upholstery of his couch, a touch of crimson blending with the mix.
Rafayel embraces you tightly, repositioning himself onto his back with you resting on his chest. He gently guides your head to rest above his heartbeat and keeps you securely in that position.“You okay?” He asked, placing a kiss on the side of your head.
"This wasn't how I expected my night to go" You confess sleepily, and Rafayel concurs, but neither of you is complaining.
"You need to pee" He suddenly says, though his motionless form indicates he's as reluctant to move as you are. "And we need to clean up"
"Just─ Just a minute longer, I love being like this" With your words, your head nestles into his chest, leaving Rafayel with no option but to comply. He holds you tightly, savouring the moment, believing it might be the beginning and the end of his resolve.
This night has sealed the deal for him completely. He is no longer an individual entity, and it's been that way for quite some time. Now, he unequivocally belongs to you.
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☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!
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2K notes · View notes
kiwisbell · 7 months
Text
Boots [joel miller]
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Joel doesn't like the idea of someone else gettin' all your best.
pairing: joel miller x female!reader
rating: 18+ (mdni)
tags and warnings: jealous joel giving you a lesson in who really likes you best, birthday sex, (over)protective joel, softie joel, dominant joel, oral sex (m and f receiving), face-sitting, riding, no plot just porn and some fluff because it's me, possessive sex, praise kink, squirting, established relationship
word count: ~ 4.5k
hello, all! i'm beginning to unload my fics onto tumblr for those who prefer reading in this format - and as a result, some of you lovely folks who follow me will likely see works you've already read before. i sincerely apologise for that, but many new projects are in the works as well because i love y'all and i live to please. that aside, if you're new here, welcome, and i hope you enjoy this one-shot!! <3
BOOTS
If there's anything you know about Joel, it's that he can get real angry. 
It ain't like he's always mad. He lives a lot of his life in utter silence, but you like to watch him. Sometimes, in the dark, he sits on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers and bringing them to his chin. He’ll sit like that for hours without moving, barely shifting to take in air, and you know never to shake him from that trance. It’s how you’ve learned to read between the lines. 
After fifteen years by his side, you can gauge his moods better than the weather. He’s got a restless spirit, but his voice is midnight water. It’s calm and dark and clear, and it rumbles: the ripples left behind by skipping stones. He never lashes out at you, never raises his voice. 
Except for that one time in New Jersey. 
“Are you goddamn fuckin’ stupid?”
This was a little while before you could patent your Joel-handling techniques, so you did what any woman would do when a man calls her stupid: you folded your arms over your chest and got just as mad. “Stupid?” you said incredulously. “I saved your ass in there. Multiple asses, actually.”
Above you, the canopy of brilliant red leaves felt like a bloody shawl, and they crackled underfoot. You sported a limp thanks to a sprained ankle and your lip was bloody, but you were fine. Truly. And yet, Joel’s anger was pulsating. You could see it: heat waves, distorting the air around him, his brows flattening over his eyes and his nostrils flaring. A bull ready to charge. He was brimming with the need to release this energy. 
Behind you, a building burned. The fire was a monstrous, lively thing, and it scorched the hairs on the back of your neck. Inside lay the bodies of the men you’d stolen the medical kits from, along with two of your own crew. It was only you and Joel left. It was autumn, and the breeze was welcome in such relentless heat. 
He’d been ambushed just as much as the rest of you, but rotten fuckin’ luck had pinned a man on top of him—armed with a knife, inches from Joel’s eye. Not trusting yourself to make a shot without hitting him, too, you had tackled the man without thinking much. It had worked well enough to send his knife clattering across the burning hut. He’d landed a punch to you before Joel had blown his head clean off. Brain matter still clung to your jeans, but you tried not to look. When you’d rolled the body off you, Joel shot him again. He was covered in blood from his greying hair to his boots.
“Your job is to look out for yourself out there,” he snapped, “not me. The fuck were you thinkin’?”
Your frown only deepened. What had you been thinking? Maybe leaving him to die would teach him a lesson or two about what it was like to fear for someone’s life. Even if it was his own. “We need to go. You can yell at me later.”
Joel didn’t say anything when he kneeled at your feet and lifted your ankle up onto his raised knee. You yelped when you almost toppled over, but he kept you steady and inspected the swollen flesh. He was achingly gentle when he prodded at you, his expression softening into something more like concern. “This hurt?” he asked.
“Of course it hurts, Miller.” You lifted a brow at him, but he wasn’t looking up. “Want me to try on a glass slipper, or can we go?”
“Still think that was stupid,” he grumbled. 
You snorted. “Yeah, well, you’re the only one who can navigate for shit, and I don’t fancy getting lost without my own personal compass.”
When he stood, Joel surprised you some more by gently patting your leg. “Real nice,” he said under his breath, shrugging the strap of your pack farther up your shoulder. “Stay behind me.”
You grinned up at him. “Happily.”
He never gets angry for long. Not at you.
There’s a knock at his door in the rhythm only the two of you know. He still checks the peephole, but it’s you. You slip inside, practically bounding on the balls of your feet, that cute fuckin’ grin on your face as you hide something behind your back. “Guess what day it is,” you say.
Joel will never let it leave this room that he indulges in your stupid game. “Sunday,” he tries.
Your pout is extravagant, but he’ll be damned if it doesn’t make him want to bite it off your pretty mouth. “Rhymes with smirthday. Y’know… the only day I ever ask you for anything.”
He clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
You roll your eyes and bring your hands around from behind your back. You’re holding a cupcake. 
“Holy shit. Where the fuck did you get that?”
“The FEDRA guy who monitors my building likes me,” you tell him, honest as ever. Too honest for this world and too damned sweet to be anything but a liability. And yet, here he is, digging, indulging, sinking his claws in. “Enough to sneak this to me from the kitchen, apparently.”
That makes him feel real fuckin’ grumpy. Nobody with eyes would be enough of a fool to deny that you’re gorgeous, but it doesn’t make him sleep any better knowing other men are chasing that brilliant twinkle in your eyes. He wants to tuck it between his ribs and let it illuminate his insides. He doesn’t want anyone else to see it, not ever.
“He’s tryin’ to make a move on you,” says Joel. “That’s what that is.”
If there’s a second thing you know about Joel, it’s that he lives with his foot in his mouth. Unfailingly. 
You have long since learned the tactics of Joel-handling. You'd be offended if it were anyone else, but you just pat his cheek affectionately. “Sit down.”
To his credit, he does, but not after some grumbling. You scrape the second chair along the floor until it's right next to him. You split the cupcake in two as best you can and pass him one of the halves. Joel eyes it suspiciously. “You sure this is edible?”
You just take a bite and groan. It's been a long time since you've tasted chocolate, let alone the decadence of over-sweet frosting. Joel watches you carefully. Your lashes flutter in your trancelike enjoyment, a small speck of white frosting on the top of your nose. He's overcome with the knowledge that people in this world would try and take you from him. That people have put guns to your head, that they have harmed you, that they'll do it again and again. This world does not leave a woman like you untouched. 
It's a good thing you've got him to make sure the world goes nowhere near you. 
“Got frosting on your nose,” he says gruffly, trying to suppress his smile as he swipes it away with his thumb. “Some killer you are.”
You kick your legs up onto his lap. His thumb idly circles your ankle bone. “I don’t pretend to be a killer. I get by just fine, Miller.”
“Yeah?” He lifts a brow. “And if I wasn’t here?”
You shrug. “Dead, probably.”
Joel takes a bite of the fucking cupcake and he's a little mad when it's not bad. 
You sit at the window on his bed later, your knees drawn up to your chest and your cheek resting atop them. You like to watch the lights of the FEDRA vehicles and the occasional star that winks at you from high above the QZ. You're a pretty sight to look at all the time, but it feels somehow more delectable when you don't know he's looking. 
It's nearing midnight, and you're getting up to leave. Curfew means you have to scurry back to your apartment across the street or you'll be stuck here all night. It also means you have to walk right past the same officer who snuck you that cupcake. 
“You asked me once if I ever wanted to end it.”
Across the fire, he looked like a spectre: a thing you could not touch, sizzling tendrils of silvery air curling around crackling flame. You’d stopped for the night, and neither of you wanted to sleep. Even though you’d both seen enough fire for a lifetime, you still extended your palms toward it and let it warm you as you watched his dark brown eyes grapple for a way through the thistly wood of his past.
“I tried,” he told you. “After I lost her.”
Somehow, you felt undeserving. Like wrapping your fingers around a piece of Joel Miller’s steel-hard aorta and yanking out all the precious bits that came with it. Like licking the blood from the heart and shoving it back inside. Would he ever be the same knowing another soul in the world had this information? Would he come to regret telling you?
He watched you stand and shuffle up next to him on the piss-poor, blood-stained excuse for a sleeping bag. When your fingers lifted to the scar on his throat, he did not flinch away. Your hands were warmed by the fire. It filled the very soul of you, that flame. He did not meet your eye, but you looked into his nonetheless. 
“I’m happy you missed.” A hand, warm and kissed by a tenderness he would never deserve, settled at the nape of his neck. Fingers gently combed through the grey strands, and he leaned into your touch, not quite understanding the pull but giving in nonetheless. For the first time in years, he thought he might be able to sleep if you just kept touching him like this.
Your next words were soft, but they were not afraid. “But I’m sad I never got to meet her.”
His head turned, and at last, his eyes met yours. 
“Me, too.”
You smiled sadly. “Joel.”
“Don’t ever,” he said slowly, his hand squeezing your knee, “play fast and loose with your life again. Your life happens to fuckin’ matter to me.”
And that was that. 
At some point, this began. Neither of you attempt to define how or when. Perhaps it has always been. It isn’t like time matters anymore.
When you pass Joel on your way to the door, he grabs your wrist. 
“Does that FEDRA fucker know whose place you go to every night?”
You sigh, turning your head to meet his eyes: glimmering black beetles in the dim light. “Joel. Don’t be an asshole.”
But he’s long past trying not to be an asshole, especially when it comes to people honing in on his fucking territory. He tugs you by the waist so your back is pressed against his chest. His fingers are splayed over your belly. “You like him?” he says into your ear. 
Your lashes flutter on your cheeks. “Joel.” His name sounds like the citrus of the oranges you like from the cafeteria. It’s sweet and tangy and somewhat discrete. “You know I need to meet with Robert about the battery tomorrow. You’ll keep me up all night.”
A grunt rumbles deep in his chest. “You’re not goin’ to see Robert alone.” 
“That was part of his deal.” You gasp when he buries his face in your neck, sucking at the skin beneath your ear. He’ll make it show up angry and purple for the FEDRA officer and, fuck it, the entire QZ to see. He’ll litter your whole body with bruises and hickeys like he's a goddamn teenager if that's what it takes to keep you here. 
“Shit fuckin’ luck.” His fingers dip to the waistband of your jeans. Your hips rock subtly and he smirks against your skin. “Robert doesn't get to decide how this goes.”
“Yeah, he does. He’s the one with the battery.” 
The scratch of his beard is rough and deliberate against your neck. “If he doesn't wanna see me,” says Joel, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding the zipper down, “he can tell me himself.”
“He’s terrified of you.”
Joel turns you around and presses you right up against his chest. You feel his hardness at your belly, the sear of his gaze through yours. “Good,” he says. “Get on the bed.”
It’s already midnight, which means you’ll get chewed out if you try to leave now. Joel’s plan, you guess. “You jealous of a little FEDRA officer, Miller?” Backing toward the bed, you smile up at him, coy and teasing.
“You never answered my question.” He chases your body, stalking toward you as his hand juts out to squeeze your hip. Your legs hit the edge of the bed. “Do you like him?” 
His lips are so close you could just surge toward him and end this suffering. But he's keeping you at arm’s length, keeping you pliant under his touch because he knows—the bastard—that he’s winning. 
Still, getting a rise out of Joel Miller is your birthright. “Would you rather I fuck a Firefly?” 
A faint sneer twists his mouth, and this is his anger. This is the simmering, thrilling thing that infests your very blood. He’s jealous, and you're surprised at how deliciously it thrums in your lower spine, knowing he’s furious at the thought that someone else could even come close to the way he knows you. 
The kiss begins slowly. For the heat you can feel through the press of his chest against yours, his nose only gently nudges yours as he works his way up to claiming your mouth. When he does, it’s a bizarre and dizzying shift compared to the rage you know he feels. The desire to march out onto the street and beat that officer to near-death. He compensates with a unique tenderness, taking his time with you, his hand pressing down against the exact spot on your lower back that forces his hips to mould to yours. His other cups your face, his fingers winding into your hair and curling at the back of your neck. It forces you to look up at him. 
His beauty loops like a knot through your nerves. If you prodded any spot on your skin, the blood beneath would sing with the topography of him. You know the lines of his face better than your own. There is a patch in his beard that resembles a heart. There is a twinkle in his eye that lingers when he frowns and smiles. It’s a rare thing in such a sullen person. But you like finding those eyes in the dark. Somehow, for you, he’s hope.
When his lips finally meet yours, they're soft, and he lets you reach up to tangle your fingers in his soft, messy hair even though he’s doing everything he can to keep you under his control. Not that you mind. He knows you're his. 
He deepens the kiss with a soft groan, curving his body over yours, tongue seeking the seam of your lips. You part them willingly, gasping when he lurches forward and slides his tongue along yours, biting and sucking at your lips. Joel growls softly at the faint noises you make, your fingers tightening in his hair, the pleasing sting in his scalp sending jolts down to his hard cock. 
“MmmmmJoel.” You’re panting, desperate for air he won't give you. He likes this—making you gasp, making you weak, making you forget entirely that you’re supposed to be teasing him. 
“Careful,” you gasp, barely able to form words around his mouth on yours. “Gonna hurt your back.”
That only seems to egg him on. He may not be young and agile anymore, but that’s never stopped him from giving you what you need. He turns you around and lies on his back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down on top of him. Your jeans go quickly, sliding down your hips with your panties and dropping somewhere on the floor. Your shirt follows, his fingers enjoying their path along your shoulders as he slips your bra straps down: a rare moment of indulgence and appreciation in a world that does not allow either. 
For a moment, he just looks at you, brushing the pad of his thumb across your chin. Your eyes glimmer from the light through the window. “You only like me,” he says. Matter-of-fact. He knows. 
But you smile, because he decided to say it anyway. “I only like you, Joel Miller.”
A hand kneads your ass, giving it a smack. You jump in his grasp, but he just gives you that crooked smirk and whispers: “Come take a seat.”
You rear back, frowning at him. Is he—
“You waiting for a sweeter invitation, baby?” His voice is low and gruff, unused to compromise. You feel his fingers dig into your ass and pull you up onto his chest. Your cunt is slick with anticipation and the ichor of desire. 
He wants you on his face. 
“What if I—”
“Sit.” Every letter feels like a deliberate strike, bone-deep. “C’mon, now.”
Let me show you how much I like you. 
Your bottom lip between your teeth, you shuffle gingerly up his chest until you can brace your hands on the wall, your cunt hovering over his mouth. Joel doesn't like that. He wraps his hands around your upper thighs and forces you down onto his face. You gasp his name, one hand flying to his hair and locking your fingers in his locks. “Fuck.”
He grunts, squeezing your thighs up to your hips as he pulls your clit into his mouth, lathering it with his spit and your wetness. It’s white-hot: the pressure on your sensitive little bundle of nerves, the insistent bump of his nose against your clit as he teases his tongue around your tight hole. “Joel, Joel, fuck,” is all you can manage, sweet little gasps that he drinks in, his hips bucking involuntarily with the delicious pain of your fingers pulling at his scalp. You're losing grip on the real world and slipping elsewhere, and he wants to get you there. 
One of Joel’s hands slides between your legs, easing them open even more, and rests on your belly, shifting to your ribcage and helping you steady yourself atop him. His fingertips graze your breasts, reverent and gentle despite their roughness. Those hands have been split and bloodied, but they hold you like they’ve never known anything but kindness. His eyes closed, savouring the taste of you, his fingers trace a scar on your sternum from an incident at knifepoint six years ago. He cannot see it, but he knows it nonetheless. 
Joel is greedy when he has his face buried in your pussy. He doesn’t get the opportunity to take his time like this often; the both of you have only ever been acquainted with impermanence. But now, tucked comfortably between your thighs, licking between your folds like a starving fuckin’ dog, taking what he wants from you. 
The sounds are slick and obscene, mingled with your drunken sighs and words of encouragement as you curl your fingers against the wall uselessly. “Joel,” you whimper, your hips rolling against his face, moonlight bursting on your eyelids. “I… can’t… so good—”
He groans, his hand smacking your thigh, feeling your cunt gush on his tongue as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly. He’ll imprint the feeling of him on your skin forever—if he hasn't already. He’ll make sure you never have another man like you have him. 
It’s a selfish thing, love. He's mastered clutching it to his chest and keeping his palm closed right around it. 
“I’m… oh, fuck, I’m gonna…” Your hips buck wildly, and a growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you steadfast and firm to his face. He sucks your clit back into his mouth and fixes his tongue to you, wiggling slightly as he feels you stiffen above him. “Oh, my—gonna come!”
He knows. You're already coming. Your hand leaves his hair and braces next to your other one on the wall, ensuring you don’t fall over as your thighs shake uncontrollably and your mouth drops open in a keening whine. Joel keeps lapping at your clit long after your orgasm fades and you cry out from the overstimulation. Gently, you reach down to tug his hair, and he reluctantly pulls away. He’s so hard he can’t conjure much mental activity besides getting his dick wet. 
Your chest is heaving as you try to pick your leg up and get off him, but your strength fails you. Instead, Joel grabs your hips and sits up, your cunt sliding down to sit on top of his erection. Experimentally, you grind down on him, watching a muscle in his jaw feather. “Are you going to let me take your pants off?” you ask him, teasing, your finger tracing the metal of his belt buckle. 
He grits his teeth, letting you take control for a moment, sliding the belt achingly slow out of each loop. Your wicked little smile is so pretty in the darkness, illuminated briefly by passing patrol vehicles through the window. Unbuttoning his shirt, you dip your body low to his chest and press gentle kisses all the way down to his soft belly and the trail of hair disappearing under his waistband. 
Joel moans brokenly when you shuck his jeans down his legs and squeeze his hard length before it can slap up against his stomach. There’s a tattoo on his inner thigh that you like to trace with your fingers, something he got with his brother when they were young. Your tongue darts out and licks up the precum pooling at his slit, making his cock twitch in your grasp. “Jesus,” he groans. “Baby, c’mon, let me—”
Your soft lips parting around the throbbing head of his cock destroy whatever end to the sentence he had planned. Squeezing his strong thighs to ground yourself, you swirl your tongue around the tip and take him deeper, your throat expanding to accommodate his thick, heavy weight in your mouth. He huffs, grumpy that he can't think straight for long enough to stop you and overcome with pleasure all the same. You squeeze his thigh again, your thumb rubbing circles over the little tattoo, and he meets your eyes. They're watery, blinking hard to expel the tears, his hand instinctively cradling the crown of your head to keep you on him, keep you choking around him. 
When your nose meets the thatch of hair above his base, he’s the one who chokes, his head tipping back. “Jesus, fuck, goddamn—” His fingers curl in your hair and gently urge you off his cock; you pout, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length. His dick jumps at the sight, lying hard on his stomach. 
“Come up here,” he rasps. You do, crawling up his body until your hips are flush, his hardness slotted, thick and throbbing, between your folds. The hum that leaves your mouth is wanton, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip. His hands move to your lower back, digging into the flesh just above your ass so you’re forced to roll your hips along his shaft. 
Your mouth drops open at the jolt of pleasure to your cunt. “Oh…”
“That’s it, baby.” 
He cannot come inside you, but he can come like this. And he will, probably faster than he likes; your pretty lips parted, your eyes lidded and boring into his even as you grind along his cock, unwavering. You look good like this. You look happy and soft and all his. 
Joel’s hands clutch you a little harder, roll you a little faster, your hands supporting your weight on his firm chest. He’s so fucking close, your wet pussy soaking his length and his tip catching on your sensitive clit with each roll of your hips, but he needs you to come again. You come first. 
“Joel,” you sigh, your thighs locking tight around his hips, nectar and frosting and citrus. 
“I know,” he says, “I know. Keep goin’, baby. C’mon. Doin’ so good. Jesus, so good.”
The first orgasm was a meticulous build-up. This one crashes down with the ceremony and courtesy of an ambush: it seizes your whole body and leaves you helpless. You moan his name—maybe you whisper it; everything is loud in your ears—and double over, your cheek pressed into the hollow of his throat. He keeps you moving, seeking his own high, bucking up against your cunt.
“That’s it.” His praises gently puff out across the top of your head, tucking your head under his chin, admiring the curve of your back and the supple taste of your skin under his fingers. His balls draw up and his core goes tight with imminent release. “Fuck, baby. Fuck—”
There’s a hot, wet splash against your belly, then another, and another. When you peel yourself away to watch his cum spurt onto his stomach, your cunt tightens with the pulsating rhythm of his shaft under you and another brief, but devastating, rush of pleasure surges through your whole body. It almost fucking knocks you over. You lift yourself off his cock in time to see a burst of wetness soak him, dribbling out around your bodies onto the mattress. Joel groans, his brows lifting, another spurt of cum landing on his belly. 
“Jesus Christ.”
You list to the side, unable to hold yourself up in any capacity. You land next to him, your arm belted across his chest, fondly nudging a pec with your nose. “Me, too,” you mumble. Your voice is hollow. 
Joel turns his head to face you, and you swipe some cum off his belly with your index and middle fingers, looking him in the eyes as you lick it up and swallow. He grabs you by the back of the neck and kisses you hard. “No fuckin’ FEDRA asshole,” he grumbles into your mouth, “is gettin’ anywhere near you. And neither is Robert.”
You forgot that was what this was about. “Joel,” you whisper, lips migrating from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, his scratchy beard, “you can’t keep me safe forever.”
He reaches around to grab your ass and then hitches your thigh up onto his hip. “Yeah, I fuckin’ can. Stay here.” 
“We aren’t related, or married.” You pin him with a stare. “They would never let us.”
Joel lifts his brows. You roll your eyes. “We aren’t married.”
He’ll pick a fight in the morning. But you already know you won’t be going to see Robert about the battery with your big guard dog standing just behind you. Robert can suck it the fuck up, for all Joel cares. 
“Happy birthday, baby,” he says, squeezing your thigh. “It was a shitty cupcake, though.”
You laugh, kissing him on the nose. “No, it wasn’t. For all you know, you may never have one again.”
“For the fuckin’ best,” he grumbles, chasing your mouth again. You let him kiss you, and neither of you get much sleep. 
He really didn't mind the cupcake.
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palioom · 2 months
Text
little dove
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summary: your first attendance of a huge feast is bothersome, alone and inexperienced as you are. until the eyes of a certain prince won't stop following you.
pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader
word count: 4.5k
warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; virginity/innocence kink; implied age gap (oberyn is in his early 40s, reader early 20s); fingering; unprotected p in v; creampie; some biting
a/n: another fic from last summer, hope you enjoy! ; headers & dividers by @/saradika-graphics
follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates
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Oberyn had been watching her all night already, his dark eyes following the shape of her wherever she went. Between the bustle of the people, her bright orange glowing dress like the sun, rising and settling as she appeared and disappeared, standing around like she didn’t know what to do with herself.
It was adorable, a smirk gracing his features as he watched her wring her hands, smiling sheepishly when someone approached her. 
So innocent.
He could see the nervousness on her face from where he sat, the uncertainty, clearly not used to people approaching her.
He could see the heavy rise and fall of her chest, exposed by the deep cut of her garments.
Taking another sip of his wine, Oberyn stood, deciding now was his time.
The festivities had been going on for a while, and even though he had planned on celebrating with a group of people in his bedchambers later, she had thrown those plans into the wind the second he set sight on her.
Something just intrigued him, maybe it was the innocence she seemed to harbour, maybe it was her beauty.
Whatever it was, he had to know more, waiving away another woman that approached him with a polite smile, then walking over to the mysterious woman.
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She looked around nervously, playing with the rings on her hands as people passed by her, some stopping to talk to her.
Feeling incredibly out of place at this feast, her first big one, she didn't quite know what to do. Her parents were somewhere, as were her siblings.
The lords trying to speak to her made her feel uneasy, knowing she was supposed to find a possible suitor at some point, but wanting nothing more than to flee this place.
In fact, she was thinking about just leaving, when she was approached again.
Tall, dark haired and handsome. The Prince of Dorne, Oberyn Martell.
She had seen him at his table, stealing a glance every once in a while and looking away when his dark eyes caught hers.
And now he stood in front of her, flashing her a wide smile.
“My Prince.” She said, curtsying as well as she could, perhaps a little clumsily. 
Out of everything she had expected to happen today, she did not expect for him to approach her.
“Do you intend to sulk in the shadows all night, my dove?”
She blinked up at him, once again playing with the rings on her fingers.
“I have not been sulking.” A frown graced her face, a slight tremble in her voice. His presence was intimidating, but different from the other people who had approached her. “I have been observing.”
Oberyn chuckled, taking a small step closer to her, watching her step back just a little in return. So close to her, he could practically feel the nervosity radiating off of her, trying to hold eye contact before they moved away again, looking at anything but him.
“Observing by turning down all lords and ladies who approach you?” He said, watching her fingers stop for just a moment, as if she had been caught, before fiddling with her rings again. “I must admit, I have been watching you for a while - you are the only lady not dancing, not talking to anyone. Just standing in your corner, sometimes moving to follow the servants for a drink or something to eat.”
She stayed quiet. Had she been that noticeable? Just by standing around, hoping for a saving grace?
“I assume this to be your first attendance at a feast this big, am I correct, my dove?”
That nickname.
It made her feel warm, a different kind of warmth than the Dornish weather. Running through her in an unfamiliar fashion, her veins like molten metal, a strange feeling moving up her spine..
“Yes, my Prince.” She said, nodding, but not looking at him.
Oberyn noticed how she became more nervous, smirking at the display in front of him.
“My parents have kept me from them for long, I was only ever allowed to attend small ones.” She continued, sighing. “It is quite overwhelming. I am inexperienced in these kinds of things.”
Her words made him inhale sharply through his nose, still smiling.
If she was inexperienced in this, what else was she inexperienced in?
He had wanted her before, but now the desire for her burned even brighter. Oberyn wanted to show her the things her parents have undoubtedly sheltered her from.
To keep their daughter pure for a potential suitor.
“I understand, my dove. Would you perhaps allow me to accompany you to a place more quiet?”
Usually, he did not beat around the bush when it came to a potential partner for the night.
But it was different with her. If he was blunt he would simply chase her away.
She didn’t look at him, thinking about his question.
All the other men and women that had asked before had made her feel uneasy. Unsure why they wanted to whisk her away, promising a better night someplace else.
But the Prince of Dorne? He made her feel different. A heat and a pressure in her abdomen that she never felt before.
She knew of the rumours, that he took many partners, for whatever they did. Yet, as he stood in front of her, charming smile and good looks, she felt herself drawn to him.
Oberyn reached out, placing a finger under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “I asked you a question, my dove.”
His fingers on her chin made her still, just looking up at him with her big eyes, lips slightly parted. The touch made that pressure worse, breath hitching in her throat.
“My Prince, I’m-” She stumbled over her words, unsure what to answer.
He just chuckled, a sigh leaving him. “You are quite easily flustered, my dove. Come with me, please.”
Holding out his arm for her to take, he hoped she would. Such an innocent, pretty thing. There was something so endearing about the way she was behaving.
She swallowed hard, looking from his face to his arm, hesitating for a moment. Something drew her to him, and after another moment, she hooked her arm into his with a nervous smile.
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Oberyn walked her away from the feast, the noises dying down behind them as they walked the long corridors.
“What did the other lords and ladies ask of you, my dove?” 
She sighed, glad to be away from the bustle in the halls, but feeling uncertain now, a throbbing at the apex of her thighs distracting her.
“They wished to take me away for some fun. I’m unsure what they meant exactly.” She didn’t look at him, too nervous to meet his dark, piercing eyes. 
It was intimidating, she had never been in the presence of a man other than her father or her brothers alone. She knew how to behave, for the most part, but nonetheless was it a little scary.
Oberyn smirked, looking down to her, seeing how she only stared at the floor or ahead of them. 
“You did not know what they were implying?” He asked, a bit amused but genuinely curious. “My little dove, you must be younger than I thought or your parents simply were too careless with your education.”
She remained quiet, her cheeks growing hot. 
A sense of shame washed over her, that he thought she was too young. It was as if her friends were with her, giggling and whispering because of something she didn’t understand.
And when she asked, they never explained, finding it too amusing to laugh and belittle her.
There was something she was missing out on, and she hated not knowing what.
“My dove, you do not have to be ashamed.” He said, his other hand coming to gently rest on hers. “If you wish, I could show you.”
He had been right about the assumptions of her being a virgin, too innocent for her own good.
Walking next to her, he felt something else besides the desire for her, a need to protect.
As if he was the only one allowed to show her, that anyone else would simply take advantage of this fact.
Now her eyes met his, brows furrowed. 
“Show me?” She echoed his words. “How? What exactly?”
Oberyn just smiled, eyes leaving hers to look at the guards standing by the door of his chambers.
He stopped, not too far away from the door, looking back at her.
“Do you wish for me to show you, my dove?” He asked, brushing back a strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “If not, I understand.”
She should be wary. Despite him being the Prince of Dorne, she should think about this. But she was curious, so curious about what this thing was that she had been missing out on.
And there was still that feeling inside of her.
“Yes, my Prince.” She said with a small nod. “I am curious, please.”
He chuckled, his knuckles brushing over her cheek. “Please, call me Oberyn, my dove.”
Moving along, the guards allowed them to enter, the heavy door falling shut behind them. Oberyn let go of her arm, walking over to a table to pour himself some wine, then offering her a cup.
She took it with a small nod, taking in his quarters. They were richly decorated, the bed massive.
Just how she would imagine it, if she had ever spent time on that before meeting him.
Taking a sip of her wine, Oberyn laid a hand on her waist with a gentle smile, pulling her closer to him.
“Most people stare when they first come here.” He said, his hand wandering up and down her side. “Don’t be nervous, little dove.”
She nodded, swallowing hard. That was easier said than done, the heat inside her becoming unbearable at this point.
His hand on her side felt like it was burning her, even through the thin fabric of her gown. Like it was hot coals placed on her.
“Have you ever been kissed, my dove?” He asked suddenly, eyes searching hers. Pulling her just a little closer to him.
She shook her head no, slowly. Heart beating in her throat, he was so close to her. 
She could feel the warmth of him, twirling the cup of wine in her hand.
“Would you allow me to?”
There was some hesitation inside her, her hands stilling. Should she allow him to? She wanted to, somehow.
Often had she imagined what it felt like, kissing someone.
Her answer came in the form of a nod, her head barely moving.
Oberyn smiled, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.
“Oh, my little dove.”
Despite his growing desire, he moved gently, bending down to place his lips onto hers. The small gasp that left her made him chuckle, his other hand coming to rest on her hip and pull her hips flush against his.
She stiffened beneath his touch, liking the way his lips felt on hers, surprisingly soft, while his beard and moustache tickled her skin. Holding onto her cup tightly, she closed her eyes, humming when he deepened the kiss and she tried to match his movements, clumsy and inexperienced.
When he parted from her, she chased after him, opening her eyes when she couldn’t. Oberyn laughed at that, staying close to her, his thumb brushing over her cheek.
She looked adorable, the way she greedily breathed in air, lips slightly parted. Still too nervous, too stiff.
“What do you think, my dove?” He asked, leaning closer again so their noses were almost touching. “Would you like for me to show you more? There is quite an array of things I could assist you with.”
His fingers curled into her hip, and when she nodded, he only smiled wider.
“I promise to be gentle, my dove. A beauty such as you needs to be handled with care.”
She didn’t know what he meant, but it didn’t matter, because as soon as he kissed her again, more eager this time, her mind went blank.
His hand briefly left her hip to take the cup from her hands, placing it on the table next to them, before it was back, pulling her against his chest and making her gasp.
Letting his tongue glide against hers at the opportunity, Oberyn heard her muffled moan, relishing in the sweet sound.
The way she tried to kiss him back was delightful, so tender and new, trying to keep up with him.
Slowly he manoeuvred her back towards the bed, having to hold onto her waist as her steps became unsure, stumbling backwards once, her cheeks glowing even hotter.
The throbbing only became more intense, and when they reached the bed and he gently pushed her to sit at the foot of it, she squeezed her thighs together, looking for relief.
There was a wetness now that felt foreign to her.
Oberyn noticed, amused at the display.
“Are you aching, my dove?” He asked, his hands coming to the belt tied around his waist.
Aching.
It did hurt, but in a different way. Not like a bruise or a cut.
She nodded. “A little. My Prince- Oberyn, what- I don’t understand what is happening.”
Poor thing. Her parents had done a horrible job to prepare their daughter.
To leave her in the dark at such an age.
She watched him undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor before motioning for her to move further back to the middle of the bed.
“You’re aroused, my dove. You feel the need for cock.” He explained, shedding his robe, then crawling over her. “Have you seen a cock before, little dove?”
Her mouth went dry as she watched him undress, now only clad in a dark orange tunic and his breeches. 
Aroused.
Of course. But was she really aroused by him? In need of his cock?
She nodded, and she could see a flash of surprise grace his features. 
“In the bathhouses, yes.” She tried to hold his gaze, now hovering over her and letting his hand glide down her side. “From afar.”
He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek, then her neck, hearing the breathy moan spill from her lips, feeling her back arch slightly.
“In the bathhouses…” He repeated in a whisper, still some amusement in his voice. “Yet you don’t know a thing about this… about desire and fucking.”
The word felt vulgar, so close to her ear.
And she felt embarrassed again. That she didn’t know more, that she didn’t understand she was aroused just by him being near her, by him kissing her, by him hovering over her.
“Do you want me to show you, my dove? The thrill of desire?” He asked, still mouthing along her neck, gently, just feeling her as she squirmed, her own hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. “How to fuck?”
Her breath hitched in her throat when he sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder, a throaty moan leaving her.
“I- I do not know, Oberyn.” She stammered, fingers digging into his shoulders. The throbbing and the pressure were distracting her, just needing relief. “It hurts, it really hurts.”
His hand moved lower, down her side and to her thigh, gathering her skirts before it dipped below them.
“I can help you, my dove.” His hand wandered between her thighs, finding her dripping already, a soft sound escaping him at the feeling. “Oh, my dove. Wet and gushing like a waterfall and I have barely touched you.”
He sounded pitying almost, his fingers slipping between her folds, raising his head to watch her face when he found her clit.
A hiss left her, looking at him with wide eyes at the foreign feeling. It felt good, strange but good.
“Have you never touched yourself before? Brought yourself to the peak of pleasure?” He asked, drawing slow circles into her clit, with featherlight touches. 
She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes open, her legs opening further.
“Never, I didn’t know-”
“You poor thing.” He cooed, kissing her. 
When his fingers left her again, she whined in protest, one of her hands reaching out to grab his wrist. 
She didn’t even really know what was happening, simply that his touch felt good and that she wanted more.
Needed more.
The burning sensation inside her was so consuming and overwhelming while also hurting her.
“Oberyn, please, continue.” She said, guiding his hand back down but he escaped her grasp. 
“Do you know anything about this, my dove? About fucking, the feeling of something stretching you open? Feeling somebody’s naked skin against yours?”
Stretching her open? It sounded painful, she couldn’t imagine how anything could do that, and where.
But she didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to embarrass herself further.
She shook her head again. “No, I don’t.”
He chuckled, his hand coming up to tug one of the straps of her gown down her shoulder, then further down her arm, exposing her breast.
“My little dove, so innocent, so pure.” A sigh left him, watching her face as he touched her breast, just lightly brushing over the hardened nipple. Nothing could have prepared him for just how much her innocence spurred him on. “I will take care of you, just allow me to do so.”
“Please, please, Oberyn.” She whined, desperate. His hand felt good on her, back arching off the bed and into his touch, her head thrown back as she closed her eyes.
This was what she had missed out on, something so good and intense. If only he could touch her again.
Slowly Oberyn undressed her, slipping the garment down her body and kissing each inch of newly uncovered skin. Taking in how she whined and moaned, took in a sharp breath or hissed at the sensation.
She felt exposed, once he sat back and pulled the gown down her legs, his dark eyes raking over her naked form as she laid before him, resisting the urge to cover herself.
So sweet and pure. And he would be the one to ruin her, to taint her beautiful body.
Thank the Gods it was him and not someone else.
“So pretty.” He said, a hand gliding up and down her thigh, the other working open his tunic. “My little dove, all for me to enjoy. I shall show you the heights of pleasure.”
She watched as he shed the garment, exposing his toned torso, the muscles under his skin moving. She was mesmerized, despite having seen this so many times at the bathhouses, when she came to find her siblings or her parents.
His hands moved down to his breeches, opening them just as slowly as he had done with the rest of his clothing.
“It seems as if my little dove has found something she likes.” He chuckled, shedding the last piece of clothing, kneeling between her spread legs, just as exposed as she was.
Cock heavy and throbbing, her eyes were fixed on it.
It was bigger than what she had seen before. But she didn’t know if she should mind that.
“Don’t be scared, my dove.” Oberyn said, moving to hover over her again, one hand on her thigh, his cock brushing against her stomach. “I’ll prepare you to take me.”
“Take me?” She asked, gasping when his hand found that sweet spot again, applying more pressure this time and leaving her breathless.
He hummed against her neck, kissing and sucking on her skin, taking in her sweet sounds.
So adorable, needing to be taught. Not knowing what pleasures awaited her.
His hand moved lower and he felt how she stiffened when one finger pressed against her hole.
“Don’t be scared…” He repeated, slowly pushing a single digit in, groaning when he felt her squeeze around him, her nails digging into his shoulders with a whine.
It felt strange, his thick finger inside of her, moving in and out slowly. Yet it also felt good, her hips rolling on their own, legs opening wider.
“Oberyn-” She moaned, voice breaking, the pressure inside her easing just a little. 
His mouth found hers again, continuing to move his finger slowly, his cock twitching at the thought of burying himself inside her soon.
“Tell me how it feels, little dove. You might be ready for another finger soon.”
She whined, concentrating on the foreign feeling, the stretch when he pushed a second finger in.
“It feels good, my Prince- Oberyn.” She breathed, her mind feeling as if it was floating on a cloud, hissing when he scissored his fingers inside of her. “It hurts a little, but it feels good.”
He chuckled, kissing her cheek and down to her jaw, then down her neck again.
“My dove, you feel splendid, gripping my fingers so tight with your sweet cunt.”
Something inside her built, blood hot like molten metal as it rushed through her, building her higher and higher until he took his fingers from her again.
A noise of protest died in her throat, his teeth softly sinking into her shoulder.
He grinned at that, lifting his head to look at her, bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a deep hum.
“Finer than any wine.” Oberyn said, positioning himself so his cock was lined up with her. “My dove, I promise to be gentle. It may sting nonetheless.”
She nodded, drowsy and wanting nothing more than this ache to end. He said his cock would help, and so she wished for nothing more than him to enter her where his fingers just had been.
“Please, help me relieve this ache.” She said, feeling him against her, so much thicker than his fingers.
Oberyn watched as he entered her, grunting at how tight she still was, seeing her eyes squeeze shut and take a sharp breath.
It stung, he hadn’t lied about that, his lips finding hers as he pushed in further, muffling her whimpers while he buried inch after inch inside of her.
All the way until he was fully sheathed inside of her, hips flush against hers, one of his hands coming to rest on her thigh, squeezing it gently.
“It hurts, Oberyn.” She breathed when he broke from her, looking back at him, his lips on her cheek again.
“I know, my dove. You will feel better soon, don’t you worry.”
It was so new, the sensation of being filled, of him inside of her and stretching her out just as he had said.
Overwhelming, someone being so close to her, inside of her, his hot skin against hers, his soft lips on her cheeks.
The pain slowly fading into a need, the throbbing returning, as did the pressure.
Her hips moving on their own, making him chuckle, the sound vibrating against her chest. 
“Are you sure you wish to continue already, my dove?” He asked, kissing a spot just below her ear that sent a shiver through her. “I cannot stop myself if we do, your cunt is simply too tight and inviting.”
She nodded, whispering a silent please.
So he slowly pulled back, setting a lazy rhythm of shallow thrusts, her dragged out moans like music to his ears, a little symphony written just for him as he drove back into her over and over again.
“You feel perfect, my dove, what an honour to teach you about the pleasures of the flesh.” Oberyn groaned, his hands grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his hips, making her whimper loudly. “You won’t find a nicer cunt than that of this little virgin dove.”
She let him move, rolling her hips, trying to meet his thrusts, that something inside her building again, becoming stronger this time.
If this really was what she had been missing out on, what she had been ridiculed for, she never wanted it to stop now that she had it.
The feeling pleasant as the ache became less and less present.
Oberyn had to hold back to not just drive into her with his entire force, losing himself in how good she felt, but still wanting this to be something good for her, as much as he desired her.
Already knowing he would seek her out again and again, her innocence far from gone, her sounds so sweet in his ears, her hands so soft as they grabbed at him, trying to find purchase on his body.
“My dove, you are close, I can feel you.” He rasped, his movements becoming sloppier, lips dancing over her skin. “You’re close, aren’t you?”
“Close to what?” She asked, words catching on her breath, feeling something but unsure if it was what he meant.
Gods, she was so adorable.
“Oh, you will see, my dove.”
His hand moved between them, finding her clit.
And with just a few movements, something snapped inside of her so suddenly and with such force that all breath left her, a strangled noise catching in her chest as her veins burned, the pressure in her abdomen released. 
She was trembling, holding him against her tightly as he kept moving, thrusts harsher now.
“There you are, my little dove, isn’t that wonderful? The heights, the peak?”
It was a pretty sight, her face contorted in bliss and pleasure but also so shocked by what was happening to her, by these new feelings.
She could only whine, falling silent when she heard him grunt deeply into her ear, stilling above her.
Spilling himself deep inside of her before rolling off of her, not separating but rolling her with him so she came to rest on top of him.
She felt exhausted suddenly, the euphoric feelings still coursing through her veins.
And he felt solid beneath her body, catching his breath just as she did, his hands carding through her hair.
“Now, my dove, how do you feel?” He asked, watching her face as she rested on him. “Are you satisfied?”
If anyone had told her just a few hours ago that she would land in the bed of the Prince of Dorne, she would have laughed at them.
But now, it seemed quite nice.
She nodded. “I feel exhausted, but I am very grateful for what you showed me.”
A smile stretched her lips wide, he liked it. She seemed to be less nervous.
He chuckled, one hand wandering down to smooth over her back. Normally he would be far from done, already planning another round of pleasure.
But she truly seemed too exhausted by this. After all, she hadn’t even known about any of this until now.
Her eyes drifted shut, but she was still awake, listening to his heartbeat.
“Oh, my dove.” He said quietly, kissing the top of her head. “There is so much more to show you, I am far from done with you.”
She felt warm at the idea, curious what else there was to discover. Her eyes felt too heavy to open them again, slowly drifting off into sleep on top of him.
Oberyn simply smiled, sighing deeply.
Yes, he was far from done. 
There was so much to learn, so much to discover.
And he couldn’t wait to see her face once he began to truly teach his little dove.
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bachibabe · 5 months
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— 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 ���𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 ♡
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synopsis: oh no! what is a cursed spirit supposed to do when he gains interest in a mortal girl? probably not make sex dolls of her, kidnap her, then fuck her until she breaks. but no one told him that!
𖦹₊┆ mahito x fem! reader
𖦹₊┆ wc: 4.5k
𖦹₊┆ warnings: noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, sex doll, cruel and unusual punishment, mindbreak, fear play, blood, biting, marking, minimal prep, cervix bruising, dehumanization (?), creampie, mahito is gross, referring to the sex doll as if it was a real person
𖦹₊┆ notes: the fic ive been writing on and off for a month… she is my baby… i have birthed her. please please please read the warnings and enjoy <33 kms if this doesn’t show up in tags
18+ → minors / blank blogs dni
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Creak.
Footsteps. Footsteps right in front of you. Right in front of your safe haven.
Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please keep walking. Please. If there’s any god out there please make him keep walking.
Bang.
His fist hits the desk right above your head. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Why the fuck did you even hide? It was dumb. So dumb. You can’t get away. Maybe if you ran, kept running forever you could get away. But you can't. Not anymore. It’s too late for any of that.
“There you are, pretty doll.” His sick smile is all you see as he leans down, coming into view. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. You know that. You do.
You knew from the moment he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. Practically buzzing as he rocked on his heels. His speech was slurred, manic. He’s never spoken like that before. So. . . so crazy.
You tried to be polite, you really did. You tried to make small talk, to politely excuse yourself even though your hands were shaking.
You tried to close the door on him but it just wouldn’t shut as he kept rambling. His foot shoved in the way, preventing your escape. His dirty fucking sneakers– god even now you remember them so clearly. You remember so many things you wish you didn’t.
How he fucking smiled when you looked back up at him.
It makes your stomach churn to think about it now.
You remember clearly how he grabbed you. He forced his way inside, slowly backing you against the wall. You remember how he grabbed your wrists, talked about how tiny they were in his hands. Showed you only a moment of warmth before harshly biting into the skin, red rising to the surface, coating his tongue. A sound of pain was retched from your throat, trying to pull away while his grip only got tighter. His hips forced you into the wall, trapping you. Keeping you as prey.
He said you taste delicious.
It fucking echos in your head. Makes you go insane with how it repeats over and over again. Exactly how he said the words. The lilt in his tone, the smile that made him look like he just saw the face of god. How excited he sounded at the first taste of blood.
The way you could tell that he craved more.
Craved everything you had to give.
You didn’t think demons were real before that night. Ghosts, angels– anything that goes bump in the night was just a figment of one's imagination. Maybe hallucinations. But this, this was real. How you wish this was all just some stupid hallucination.
Nothing is paranormal before you face the devil himself.
Nothing is more terrifying than when the devil wants you.
You learned that that night.
He dragged you next door, throwing you to the ground. He looked like a shadow, only a silhouette as he stood in the doorway. The moon casting a glow from behind him. You couldn't see his face, none of it was legible as you scrambled backwards. Trying, trying so desperately to put some space between yourself and the beast.
His shoulders heaved as he panted. Like a fucking monser that just got his kill.
He had.
He closed the doors. Locked them with what felt like a million keys. He started fucking giggling. Giggling like a goddamn lunatic as his demeanor changed completely. He was smiling like an innocent little kid. He was happy. The happiest you had ever seen a person before.
“Ahhh~” He sighed, glee laced in his all too cheery tone. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Speaking, churning in your ears so it's all you can hear. It mocks you. Mocks your very being. Mocks you for trying to live a normal life away from him.
You remember how he clung to you that night as you sobbed. Whining about how you shouldnt be sad, that you were home now. He’d coo, playing with your hair as he tried to ‘soothe’ your trembling body. His arms wrapped around you in a vice. It felt like he was choking the air out of your lungs.
Maybe he was trying, maybe he wanted you dead. You really had no clue. You just wanted to get away– be as far away from him as you could. You’d do anything, you told him as much. Change your name, leave the country. You promised you wouldn’t tell anybody! You would tell him anything if it meant you could leave.
But he kept you in place. Tucked in his arms. His entire body wrapped around yours, keeping you close. Keeping his face nuzzled into your neck. Smelling you. Smelling your fear.
He loves that smell.
If you let him he would breathe it in all the time, treating it as the very thing that keeps him alive. Well, until you die anyway. But he knows that won't be anytime soon! You’re strong. You're tenacious. He knows you are. You’ve dealt with so much in your life, you can deal with him too. He just knows it.
He wonders what all of your other emotions smell like.
Hmm.. What about love? That would be an interesting smell. Maybe it would be sweet like honey? Maybe bitter like chocolate… Humans are so interesting. They're so fun.
You are especially. And he knows you’ll like him too. He’s sure of it as you finally tire yourself out, falling asleep on his beat up mattress. Mmhmm crying for hours must really hurt your soul. Poor thing. He would fix it. Fix you up all nice and pretty. Yeah, he knows just how to. His pretty experiment.
Well, he thinks that’s all you are. A nice human experiment for him to play with. To learn everything about. Learn what makes them tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry. Kenjaku told him as much. He could keep a little human as a pet, dispose of them when necessary. But… he doesn’t want to let you go! Just the thought makes him want to cry!
You are already better than he ever imagined!
Bang.
The chair blocking your body is thrown back, assaulting the wall with a deafening crash. Your hands come up, covering your ears. Shit Shit Shit! Fuck, what are you going to do, what are you going to do?! Your body forces itself as far as it can into the corner of the desk. All you can hear, all you can think about is the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears.
Why are you so dumb?! You knew you couldn’t win! You never win any of his games!
He squats in front of you, blocking your only means of escape. You hear him, watch him inhale deep before letting out a sick laugh. One that makes you want to cry. One that makes you feel like trying to run– trying to hide is useless. Maybe it is. You don’t see how you could possibly get away.
The pictures covering his walls tell you everything you need to know.
“Found you.” He smiles, crawling towards your body, crawling towards your last bit of safety. He looks like a monster– he is a monster. He can’t be human. He can’t. You refuse to believe it. Your legs kick, they try to get away. They try to be your last line of defense but his face only shows that of an owner looking at a puppy having a fit. He looks so fond of you.
You want to scream.
He grabs your ankle. It hurts. Everything hurts. You should’ve become numb at this point, you wish you had. You feel your body slip out from under the desk, dragged against the hard floor. Pick you up with ease, lay you down in his bed. His gross disgusting bed.
He pouts. He fucking pouts at you. Sits in front of you.
“Don't tell me you’re jealous.” His frowns, tilting his head at you. “I didn't mean to make you! I swear! I just wanted to show you. How much I love you…how good I could make my pretty doll feel.” You could never be jealous. Not of anything involving him.
Especially not involving the putrid fucking sex doll that lays next to you in bed.
How he fucked it last night, making you watch. Made you hold his hand while he thrust into the thing. Made you cup his face as he came inside.
“How I’ve been practicing just for you.” He coos, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to his knees, crawling towards you in the bed. “Humans are hard to understand…And I really just can’t wait for you any longer.”
You don’t hear his words. Your eyes fixated on the doll that looks just like you. Every freckle the same, every mole. Every fucking tiny detail mirrored yours in a lifeless, hollow core made of silicon. Filled up with his cum. You don’t want to think about how many times he’s fucked it. How many times he’s pretended having sex with you while holding it close. How much he had to have spent to get such a thing.
How deep whatever he feels for you runs.
You swear it probably coats his veins. Running under every inch of this skin. Giving it color. Giving it life. It's all you’re able to think about when he leaves you alone in the apartments. It’s hard for you to swallow. To believe for yourself. You wish it is a lie.
You let him get close. You let him into your bubble for only a second. You allow his face into your neck. Biting your skin, drawing blood once again. He loves the taste. You think he's probably obsessed with it. You wanted to recoil away, disgusted with how he hums, lapping at the skin. But you don’t. You need to let him have this. Even if it's just for a second.
You close your eyes tight. You feel him relax. He thinks you’re giving in. You know he does. You can do this. You can do this. You may have only made this decision a moment ago as you stared at the doll, but you had to do this. You had to do it for yourself. It may be the last chance you get. You can’t stop fighting.
You can do this. You can do this.
The mantra chants over and over again in your head like a prayer. You feel his hand reach up, covering your clothed breast with his palm. Massaging it carelessly, without any thought or respect for you. In his head you’re probably the same as that fucking sex doll.
Your knee shoots up. Right into his crotch. Right where it hurts the most. Your hands shove him with all the strength in your body, getting him off of you. Getting him away for only a moment while he recovers. Maybe. Maybe you can make it out of the door. Or maybe you can make it to the bathroom and lock yourself inside. Maybe you have a chance. Just maybe.
Your body scrambles off of the bed, moving faster than you ever thought was possible. You race towards the door, arm reaching out for the handle. You’re so close. You’re almost there. You’re almost able to get away.
Freedom is within your grasp, it's so close you can taste it. He forgot to lock the door, you know he did. You didn't hear any of them click back in place when he came inside. He was too caught up in the moment with trying to find you. If you make it there then maybe, just maybe you can get outside. Run as fast and as far away as you can. Call the police and escape from him. Spread the wings he’s tried to clip.
You land flat on your face.
Not even your arms are able to cushion your fall.
A stitched hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you, dragging you again. Backwards. Back into the cage. Back to him. His chest heaves. His shoulders hunch. He looks disheveled. Crazed.
He has that fucking smile plastered on his face.
“I love it when you run. It's so pretty.” He giggles, “You know me so well.”
You kick at him, thrash your body as he pulls you closer and closer. “Get the fuck away from me!” You yell, though it falls on deaf ears. All the strength in your body is being used to get away. To try and escape from him. He can’t be human. He’s too strong. Even with your struggle he still lifts you easily, like you’re just some fucking little kid having a temper tantrem.
“I’ve been so patient…” He sighs, placing– rather, forcing you onto the edge of the bed. Your knees on the floor as your torso is pressed against the mattress. Your arms pinned behind your back with one of his hands. Your hips pinned in place with his own. You can feel his cock against you. He’s hard. “I really am patient, you know?”
He hums, gently rocking his hips against you. His entire length pressed against your cunt. Taunting you. Words are not needed for you to know what’s to come. “It’s really too bad you know? I’ve run out.”
The simple statement makes your blood run cold.
“I’ve been so gentle…so caring…” He purrs, forcing his sweatpants down his legs. Just enough for his cock to spring free. Just enough for him to be able to stroke himself. For him to press the fat head where he wants– no, no. Needs to be. “I’ve really been trying my best to be good for you.”
You wish you could see. You wish you could see everything– exactly what he is doing. What he is planning to do to your wrecked frame. If, if everything wasn’t such a surprise then maybe… maybe you could make it a little better. But like this… you’re helpless. You’re trapped. You hate it. You can’t stand it. You wish you still had more tears left to cry. But you know it’s over. You can’t do anything now.
Exactly how he wants it– wants you.
You feel him stop moving, an excited gasp resonating from his throat. His entire presence changes in a flash, giddiness taking him over as the cogs in his brain turn. Making his own story, his own reality changing all over again. “Unless, you don't want me to be good for you? You want me to take what I want? That’s why you’ve been trying to run and hide?”
His frame towers over yours, his full weight pressing against your back forcing you deeper into the bed as he mumbles into your ear. “All you had to do was say so~ ♡”
All you can do is whimper in response. Whimper like a wounded animal that's been forced to accept their fate. Your head is blank, devoid of all thoughts and feelings. There is nothing. Nothing you can do.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe a small part of you does like it. Who knows. You certainly don’t.
He blows gently on your ear, teasing you before he leans back. Your bottoms are forced down, exposing your cunt to the entire room. You can feel him practically buzzing with excitement. With some sick pleasure found deep within his gut.
“So pretty!” He whines, spreading your cheeks to get a full view of your pretty little cunt. You hate that you’re already wet. You hate that the feeling of his cock did it to you just moments before. You hate that he can see it. You hate the way pride bubbles up in his gut. The way you can hear him lick his lips like a starved man.
Hate what the other little voice is saying inside of your head. Hate that even maybe a little bit of your soul wants to feel him. The quiet fucked up voice that you always try to scilence.
“Mm… I wanna taste you so bad but… I really can’t wait anymore… what am I supposed to do!!” You can practically hear the pout plastered on his lips. “Ah~”
The fat head of his cock finds its way back to your cunt, dragging itself up and down your lips. Milking every last bit of wetness out of your hole. Your nails dig into your own hands— maybe his. It’s hard to tell where you stop and he begins. When he’s this close it’s hard to tell much of anything.
“We have forever together don’t we?” He chuckles, his head stopping at your unprepped little hole. Attempting to push into it with just enough pressure to have you squirm. Have you bite down on the sheet to silence any sounds that might try to come through. “We can try out all sorts of fun things together~”
His thumb aids as he tries to push the head of his cock inside. Prodding, trying to force his way inside without a care in the world for how it might hurt. How it might feel for you. He’s too big— you’re, you’re too tight. You can’t take it! It won’t fit you just, just!
“Mmmm!!” A muffled cry breaks free from your throat as the head of his cock buries itself in your cunt. Your ears ring, pain taking over your senses as he lets out a mouth watering, near pornographic moan from above you.
His grip on your wrists tighten, eyes staring at where he’s fucked himself into you. Wow~ it’s so pretty. He never expected a human to feel this good! It’s incredible! Magnificent! And this is just the first inch of him? Oh my… he can only imagine what bottoming out with feel like— how it will feel when his cock is pressed against your cervi—
Wait wait!! He’s getting ahead of himself again. A gasp leaves his throat as he pulls out, a muffled whine leaving your own. Your hole clenches around nothing. What a cute little thing! It’s calling him back in!! He knew you wanted this, he knows all about you huh?
He drags his cock back and forth through your lips again, red mixing in with the pretty white. He dips his cock head over and over again into your entrance, thrusting himself deeper and deeper every time. Stretching you just perfectly around his length.
Hmm, humans like prep right? He figures that this is close enough. His doll doesn’t need it. She just takes him right away— someday you’ll be the same! He just needs to break you in! But until then, he needs to savor this… who knows when you might come around again?
Mmm… you’re too mean to him. Yeah, that’s all it is.
Ah, it’s too bad he’s too lost to notice you’re already falling apart. Your back is arching on its own. Working without permission to give him a better angle. Your hips bucking, leaning back ever so slightly as he presses into your cunt. Urging him just a little deeper. Your pussy is too wet to think about anything, your head in a daze as he teases you, taunts you relentlessly.
You don’t want this— at least you think you don’t. But, it’s so hard to know what you really want when you’re head gets like this. When it’s actually feeling good. When the pleasure mixes with pain to concoct something dangerous. Something that makes you unsure of anything really. Maybe you’re dumb, maybe you’re stupid. Yeah. You probably are. But that’s okay. He likes that.
He likes you.
He slides his cock inside of your hole, his hand moving to your ass as thrusts his hips. Forcing his cock deeper and deeper with each stroke. Your walls clenching around every inch that pushes its way inside. God, you’ve never felt so full. You’ve never felt anything like this. Anything like his cock, anything like him.
Whimpers, whines, all sorts of sounds escape your throat as you let him do what he pleases. Give into whatever twisted pleasure is being given to you. It’s hard to stop them when he’s even louder— panting like a fucking dog as he feels you. Feels every inch of you. Makes you two become one.
He fucks into you so hard it hurts. So hard that your entire body is being pushed into the bed, spine curving up to meet him with every demonic thrust of his hips. Every time the skin of his thighs meets your ass, every time the head of his cock meets with your cervix, pain racks through your body. You can’t take it. You feel like you’re going crazy. You feel like you’re the insane one.
The sound of skin against skin penetrating the sound of your ears like some sort of sick, twisted song. A song he plays so well. One you don’t want him to stop. No matter how much it hurts, how it stings you, you just can’t find it in yourself to push him away. His moans feel like a siren’s voice, luring you closer and closer, pushing you so close to the edge.
“Why’s she so mean!” He whines, his thrusts frantic and hurried. Only caring for his own pleasure, only caring about him. “Won’t let me in any deeper doll! Can you believe that?” He groans, pressing his cock so hard against your cervix you nearly scream in pain. Your body thrashes, trying to get away from the sensation.
He shushes you quietly, leaning his torso against your back as he coos. “Shh… shh… it’s okay… we won’t try that today okay? Must be too much for you… poor thing.” His hips relent, slowly rocking into your battered cunt to give you a little bit of a break. To rest before the main event.
You want to cringe at how wet you sound, how messy you’ve become due to his cock and his cock alone. How greedily your pussy takes him, urging him back with every thrust. Wanting it. Wanting him.
You see his arm reach past your head, grabbing onto your mimics hair. Pulling the doll closer. Holding its head so it’s staring right into your eyes. It’s so lifeless. So hollow.
“It’s okay.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Someday you’ll take me just like she can, yeah? You’ll be sooo~ good for me.” His hips start to pick up their pace again, thighs slapping against your ass so hard you might see stars. So hard you actually want to listen to him.
“I had to break her in too, real good.” He pants out, loosing himself in the feeling of your tight, warm walls.
You flinch away. You can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at a face that is exactly your own yet so cold and distant. So lost. Used for months on end. Maybe a little sense comes back to you, a small part of reality seeping back into your skull.
He tsks. Fucking tsks and shakes his head in disappointment. “That won’t do… I need my girls to like each other…” He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at the thing. The creature with your hair and eyes.
“Kiss it.” His voice changes in a second, morphing into something commanding. Something scary. Fuck reality. Living in whatever dream you’ve created for yourself is better. Better than facing this. You don’t want to disobey. You want to listen, want him to let you cum. Maybe want his praise, even if it’s just a little.
Your lips meet with the cold, lifeless silicon. Tasting whatever disgusting leftover cum can be found on its lips. He pushes the head against your lips, forcing you to lick your tongue inside. “Adorable!!”
He likes it. He likes it too much. You can tell.
Tell by the way his hips pick up speed, forcing your used hole to take him over and over again. Forcing you to accept him into your body. Forcing you to fall for his cock. Make sure no one else will ever be able to use it. Use you like the way he wants to.
Can tell by the way his cock twitches, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His pace completely out the window as he searches for nothing but his own release.
Maybe you like it too. Like the way his cum tastes. Like the way he took this, took all of you for himself. All of you flesh as his. The coil tightens in your stomach, white specks start to form behind your eyelids. You’re close, too fucking close you just can’t take it anymore.
A loud moan leaves your lips, muffled by the silicon held against your mouth. Waves of pleasure crashing through your frame like a tidal wave of ecstasy as white paints the inside of your walls. Ears ringing, vision gone white as endorphins fill your brain making you forget— forget everything about this moment. How fucked up it is. How you want more.
Your walls clamp around his cock as it jerks in your cunt, milking every last drop of cum from him. Filling you up until you’re full. Until you can’t think anymore. Until you’re so tired you just want to collapse.
He drops the doll letting you pull your head back to finally be able to breathe again fully. Your frame slumps against the bed. Tired. Drained of everything it has to give.
He slowly pulls out of your abused little hole, watching the way it flutters around nothing. Watching the white mixed with red slowly drip out of it onto the rug. “Humans are such incredible little things…”
He smiles, shallowly dipping a finger inside your hole before popping it in his mouth. Just a little taste. “You did so good doll…” He pets your hair, gives you some sort of comfort after everything he’s done. It’s the least you deserve.
He moves your body into the bed with ease, pulling a blanket over your shaking form. A nap would be good right now. It’s always good to give humans at least one nap a day! Mhmm… and you seem like you could use one.
He moves behind you, wrapping an arm around your body from behind. Pulling you close to his chest. Making no mind to fix your clothes. This is good. This is right. It’s how it’s always supposed to have been!! Ah, and now he has all the time to make you understand that too. He’s so lucky. So lucky to have found such a good human.
“Night night dolly…” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair gently. Coaxing you to sleep. “Let’s have a great day tomorrow too, yeah?”
Right. Cause this is forever. ♡
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hongthoven · 19 days
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「✦Mist ✦」 ʰᵒⁿᵍʲᵒᵒⁿᵍ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁽ˢᵐᵘᵗ⁾
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one-shot 𖹭 4.5k w
pairing 𖹭 kim hongjoong (ateez) x fem reader
tags 𖹭 smut; established relationship; rough sex; car sex; jealousy; possessiveness; bit of dirty talk if you squint
✏️ Hongjoong is the jealous kind - you know it, everyone around you knows it, but what was supposed to be a chill night out with your friends takes an unexpected turn when your boyfriend accidentally hears about a past fling including one of the boys sitting at the table next to you.
pls reblog & comment if you like it 𖹭
© hongthoven
“He’s gonna blow this off. You just watch”
An uneventful, typical Friday night at your local bar with your usual gang, dusting off the reminiscence of a neverending busy week of work and pretending to enjoy the company of people you wish you didn’t even have to interact with daily. With his elbows pressed against the table as he lifts himself to get a perfect view over the bar where one of your friends disappeared merely a minute ago, Seonghwa can’t contain the hysterical laughter shaking him to the bones as you all sit there watching another chaotic cry for attention from the man who’s about to use another infamous cringy pick-up line to get into the bartender’s pants. 
While you’re not always proud to introduce him as such, Wooyoung has been granted with the best-friend status ever since you were still crawling in your nappies and struggling with the concept of syllables; and even though there was a time he used to be cute enough to get out of an awkward situation, watching him make an absolute fool of himself sits inevitably at the top three things you like to do on a Friday night– having Hongjoong there by your side only sprinkles an ounce of perfection to this moment, your boyfriend primarily acting like the cherry on top of every mundane situation. And right now, with his palm tucked between your closed thighs and his forehead occasionally resting against your shoulder every time he starts to laugh a little bit too loud at your friend’s misery, Hongjoong definitely looks like the tastiest dessert to the three-courses-meal you could have used upon heading to the bar. 
Red at the cheeks, you can already feel the sheer mix of alcohol and excitement as everyone starts to chant some improvised loser anthem to welcome back Wooyoung at your table, his cocky smirk untouchable as he finds his spot right next to you with the confidence of a sore loser facing the tragic ‘game over’ screen of a video game. Looking for the support he can’t find in any of you, Wooyoung immediately reaches for the first glass in front of him — yours —  and chugs it down his throat in what you count as two painfully slow gulps. Within a second, the glass hits the table back with a loud thump.
“Can’t even get your own drink?”
“Hhhhh— chill, babe, what’s yours is mine, remember? and yes, that includes YOU, Joong!” Wooyoung smirks a little bit too proudly, your cheek pinched between two of his fingers as he manages to equally piss you and your boyfriend off with his typical provocative tone. 
Lucky for you, Hongjoong is quick to let him know he wouldn’t go near his dick even if he was about to die and the only remedy was laying in his cum– and as the topic eventually dies with Wooyoung quietly chuckling to himself, the back of his head hitting the leather of the booth you had claimed as yours over an hour ago, Seonghwa calls for another round, ready to keep the night going. 
It’s nothing close to unusual, having a bunch of friends in their twenties naturally leading the conversation towards their favorite topic: sex. More specifically, a heated debate over who’s getting some and who gets to take the “no bitches” status home for the week. Seonghwa usually gets the party started– as a photographer, the man never fails to share the crudest anecdotes about a photoshoot turned into some sort of orgy, sparing no details even though being asked to ‘get to the point’ about a thousand times throughout his stories. Then, Wooyoung would usually make his contribution by sharing some of his latest Tinder encounters, using this moment to be his favorite version – the center of attention – and turning a random story about a date in a coffee shop into a Shakespearian drama, tone and everything, to entertain the crowd. 
By the time the two single pieces of your gang are done, they typically enjoy teasing you – the happy couple – asking if sex hasn’t turned too boring yet, as you’re soon to be entering your third year as an item. But tonight, for some reason, shit unexpectedly hits the fan when a silly comment makes your boyfriend flinch into his seat, eyebrows knitted together as Wooyoung’s voice – always too loud and high-pitched – comes out with a secret you thought would be kept forever, merely a piece of information, a glitch from the past, nothing to even discuss— unless Hongjoong decides to make it an issue. 
“You two slept together?” you only realize he’s been quiet for a while when his voice surprisingly cracks under the utter shock of picturing his girlfriend hooking up with the womanizer sitting by her side. Until then, never considered a threat but now standing awfully close to the woman Hongjoong liked to claim as his, brand new information instantly breaking the perfect balance between a long-time friend and an ex-lover he didn’t see coming. 
“I wouldn’t technically call it ‘sleeping’ — I mean, there was no bed involv—”
“Shut up, Wooyoung” you cut him off immediately, rolling your eyes at the way he simply NEEDS to add useless details to his statement.
“That was ages ago” While you feel the urge to add context, the way Hongjoong’s hand immediately stills between your thighs, matching the one holding his glass close to his lips as he tilts his head with a quick, unimpressed chuckle, says it all. He is pissed.
The rest of the evening is quite a blur as you fail to focus on any of the ongoing conversations, your attention entirely drawn to Hongjoong who's gone quiet ever since he heard about a whole section of your life you had managed to keep undercover to this day. And though you try to make eye contact every now and then, you’re a bit concerned to face his clenched jaw and a stone-cold silence, his body only reacting from primal instinct whenever Wooyoung wraps an arm around your shoulders to joke around, your boyfriend’s eyes following his every move like a predator ready to jump if he dares coming closer.
The silence between you two occurs for the rest of the night and follows you through the streets as you struggle to match your boyfriend’s pace, alcohol and stilettos as the worst combination with wet concrete from a drizzly evening. 
“Are you seriously mad at me?” You eventually dare to ask, your hand reaching for his arm to stop him in his tracks – quite honestly you’ve grown tired of staring at his back and strolling behind like a puppy who’s just wet the new carpet. 
“Take a wild guess” Hongjoong almost hisses as he finally turns to face you, one of his hands collecting a fistful of his black hair to push it back and in this moment, you hate the fact he looks so divine, droplets sparkling all over his face like skin made of a billion diamonds, thick lashes battling against a storm as he locks your gaze, trying desperately to read through your puzzled expression.
“For Christ’s sake Hongjoong, that was YEARS ago— a whole different life!”
“It’s not about ‘when’ it happened, Y/N, I’m just wondering why it never came up before. God knows he likes to talk about the places his dick has been before, we had a complete walk through a world tour— Wish I knew you were one of the stops.” 
“It never came up because it means nothing– doesn’t it prove anything at all? We were just horny college students! It was over before it was even a thing!”
“Seems like you left quite the impression” Hongjoong snaps back, his fingers fiddling with his pocket, looking for a lighter and what seems to be the only cigarette left in the packet he immediately crushes and tosses into the nearest bin – baffled. You try and recall Wooyoung’s words and the way he carelessly exposed one of your flings, letting the entire table know about how you had dragged him into the corner of a busy street following a night out in a club, begging to be fucked. Like you said, a whole different life— a life when you didn’t care much about settling with anyone, sick of the dating scene and more importantly, a life when you could still perceive Wooyoung’s sex appeal. Back then, it was easy to be charmed whenever he smiled at you, tongue poking into his gummy cheek like he was a second away from bending you over the sketchy couch of his pocket-sized student bedroom. Back then, mindless sex with your best friend seemed like a perfect compromise, especially when you two ended up too horny yet too lazy to go out and seek for a Player 2. 
Now, though? Wooyoung remained your best friend, a comfort place always willing to make you laugh through darker times— but when it came to sex? You couldn’t even recall the last time you had felt attracted to the man. How could you, when the one staring at you right now, eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched together and quite obviously dismantled by the whole situation was still, inevitably, profoundly, everything you wanted and needed from a partner?
“You know he can’t compete…” you feel the urge to insist although you can’t recall a time when you haven’t praised your boyfriend’s skills in the bedroom— or wherever he feels like having you. Truth be told, no one could ever make you drift away from Hongjoong. Even after years of dating, the man still managed to take your breath away. But you would also lie if you said you didn’t like his jealous side just a little. The way his lips turn into a natural pout as he sucks onto his cigarette, his eyes obviously avoiding yours as he frowns towards a random scene happening on the other side of the road between another couple whose fight seems way ahead of yours. You can’t help but notice the irony. Maybe something in the air?
“It’s not a competition, Y/N” Hongjoong rarely uses your name— typically prefers to give you his favorite pet names instead of some boring formality, and tonight is one of those rare exceptions when he is too mad to act like your usual caring boyfriend. You know he is probably rummaging through the most haunting thoughts— thoughts of you pinned up against the wall, clinging onto Wooyoung, both of you still half clothed as he rockets himself into you, making you call his name in the middle of the streets and for everyone to see. 
Rain has gotten you drenched by now, the fabric of your dress sticking to your shivering skin as you curse yourself for ditching a coat just because none of your warmest jackets would fit your vibe that night. Your impeccable fashion taste was actually one of the many things that had caught Hongjoong’s eye when you had first met and to this day, your boyfriend never missed a chance to praise your looks— every morning he would stare at you with a loving smile, a second before pressing his lips to your neck as you both stood in front of your bedroom’s mirror, his sweet voice whispering the most devastating compliments only to conclude with a daily “I love you”. 
“Let’s get you home, you’re gonna catch a fucking cold” Hongjoong adds, taking off his own coat to let it rest like a cape upon your shoulders. Though the fabric is just as drenched as you are, it feels comforting to smell the familiar scent of his signature fragrance, the one that never fails to get you hot and bothered, only because it is particularly crafted for your boyfriend. Rich, fancy with just enough masculinity in the undertone to make you feel like he owns you entirely. 
Although you hear him curse for parking the car so far from the bar, his hand still finds yours as you lock your fingers together, his pace now matching yours — and while you know he isn’t ready to calm down just yet, there’s a sense of comfort in the way he still manages to make you feel loved and cared about. 
The warmth of the car hits you like lava as Hongjoong immediately sets the heat above normal in hope it’ll dry your clothes faster. Though he has started the ignition, he seems to be frozen still, his eyes staring upfront, hands on the wheel as you notice just how tensed he actually is, from the sharpness of his jaw to the way his skin turns white around his knuckles from holding the wheel a little too hard. 
“I don’t want to picture you two together everytime we hang out, Y/N… Actually, I never want to picture anyone else with you, but me — do you understand? or do I sound crazy to you right now?” 
Hongjoong’s possessiveness is no news to you. Not after years of dating the man and witnessing his sudden change of mood whenever he sees a man standing a little too close, let alone having a conversation with you. It’s not a fight you never had before and you know, deep down, it won’t be the last. 
“It’s not that I don’t trust you” he adds, almost apologetic as his eyes finally find yours “but now all I can see is his hands all over you… It’s fucking killing me” you watch as he closes his eyes, growling at his own tormented thoughts while the back of his head hits the leather of his seat. By now the windows are covered with a thick, steamy layer, making it impossible for you to see the road ahead. Or to be seen. 
Taking on the opportunity of having your boyfriend still processing his own demons, you decide to let your intrusive thoughts win this round as you peel yourself off Hongjoong’s coat, letting it pool on the seat 
“How about I give you something else to think about?” you smile, wasting no time in straddling your boyfriend whose eyes suddenly open wide at the unexpected intrusion. There’s a little space for you to maneuver between the wheel and his chest but you somehow manage to make it work, your thighs pressed on each side of his while your arms lock around his neck like two pieces of a magnet smacking together at last. 
“Babe— I don’t think you should play this game right now” Hongjoong’s voice is full of warning, his tone a little deeper than it usually is, but you’re not typically the one to give up on a plan, especially when it involves fucking the anger out of your boyfriend. 
“Give me one good reason to stop” brushing your lips against his, your hips naturally start to grind over his lap, putting on an obvious show while his hands travel up your thighs, creasing the wet fabric of your dress until it crumples at the wake of your hips. 
“I could hurt you” the words vanish against your tongue as you deepen the kiss, dying for a taste of him while the sour mix of whisky and cigarette invades the back of your mouth like a drug you can’t ever get enough of.  Caged into his arms, you feel a little boneless, your own body going limp against the stiffness of his muscles as his fingers dig into your flesh, lacing your skins with thin little red ribbons as he carries your pace by pushing your pelvis back and forth against his growing bulge. 
“When did I ever ask you to go soft on me?” you tease, the tip of your tongue tracing the outline of his lips as you chuckle at the sight of him crumpling in front of your eyes. One of his hands eventually detaches from your thigh, traveling up your stomach, between your breast, palming your chest until it rests against your throat in the shape of a fist ready to choke the air out of you. 
“Want me to go rough on you, love?” Hongjoong smirks, his white pearls as a permanent threat while his grip tightens around your neck, a slight change of shade showing a bruise from a couple nights before, now a little too faded for his liking. 
“Fuck I like to see my prints all over your body— show the world you’re fucking mine.” The daunting mix of his filthy words with the growing stiffness between your thighs is enough to have you mewling like a kitten as you tilt your head back, arching perfectly against the wheel while giving your man the most breathtaking view over your breast as it escapes the thin fabric of your dress — and though it’s been a while since you gave up on wearing a bra, the sight never fails to make Hongjoong go completely feral, his lips attacking your tits like a starved animal. 
“Joongie— fuck” you almost squeal as soon as his teeth graze the sensitiveness of your erected nub, pulling at it just enough to have you lost in limbo. Halfway between excruciating pain and absolute bliss. By now, your hips are jolting at the most crazy pace, your entire body craving for his touch as you no longer fear for him to witness your utter desperation for his cock. With his mouth still tightly wrapped around your tit, Hongjoong reaches for your chin with one hand, his fingers pressed to your jaw, his thumb finding your mouth already agape as it lands flat against your tongue like a priest feeding you a wafer on Sunday Mass. 
While his finger never comes close to the absolute treat of having his junk at the very back of your throat, you still make sure to put on a show as you suck the flesh out of his thumb, taking off his silver ring only to spit it out over his lap with a content smile. Eyes filled with a darkness you know too well, Hongjoong wastes no time fumbling between your thighs, pushing your lacy panties roughly to the side and almost tearing the fabric open from lacking patience as his thumb finally finds your slit, your own saliva melting with the abundant wetness of your cunt. 
“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of this” he almost growls, his mouth attacking your neck, chest and every piece of skin coming close enough to his starving lips, devouring your flesh entirely as you instantly clench around two more of his fingers while yet not full enough. 
“Joongie please” you don’t care how begging you sound right now with your hand smashed against the window, leaving its print behind while bouncing against his palm like you’ve been cock deprived for months. There’s just something about this man that simply leaves you putty into his hands, desperate for more and constantly craving his touch. Whether you’re standing in a crowded room or alone at home, you can’t recall a moment when you don't feel the instant urge to jump his bones. 
You’re lucky the steam is covering up for the mess happening inside your car right now as if anything, everything looks absolutely obscene right now. From the way your dress isn’t doing its job at covering your dignity, all tits out and dripping inside your boyfriend’s palm as he hooks his fingers into you, hitting your special spot just right with every snap of his knuckles, to the increasing sound of your voice as you moan his name like a broken record, brain fuzzy from the upcoming orgasm taking over — yet the thought of being caught isn’t that terrible. You’ve had this conversation with Hongjoong before. When mentioning your kinks and wildest fantasies, you can perfectly recall the time you had told him about how you wouldn’t mind doing it somewhere people could see— while not entirely into the exhibitionism scene, you didn’t hate the idea of having an audience. 
Hongjoong’s hand — the one clenching around your throat until now — finds its way between your bodies, fiddling with his belt as you lift yourself up slightly to give him just enough room to unpack your favorite treat in all its veiny glory. Any other day, you would take your sweet time to give him head and have him fuck your throat until you’re sore but there’s some sort of emergency in the air as you grab his wrist, breaking contact as his fingers slip out of your gaping hole so his hand finds a new nest over your chest, covering your skin with a messy coat of arousal as you finally slide down his pole until it empales you entirely. 
Nothing ever comes close to that first stretch. No matter how many times you have fucked, Hongjoong still feels like a first everytime he pushes himself into you, tearing you apart with the girth of a cock who has definitely made you cry before. Both from pain and pleasure. But today there’s no time for adjustment as you use the car door and headboard as a lever to bounce over Hongjoong’s lap restlessly. The whole scene is messy, almost crude as you pour over his slacks, the buckle of his belt bruising your skin with every hard thrust of his hips as soon as he starts to pound himself back into you, wrecking the pace and your insides all at the same time. 
“Should have invited your little friend to watch” Hongjoong growls, eyes half shut with the veins of his neck growing twice its size from using all of his strength to pistol his hips into your groin from under. “Show him how it’s done” he adds, using both his hands as a belt around your hips to keep you still as he keeps pounding harder with each thrust. By now your brain has turned into mush as you bite into the back of your hand not to scream, completely unable to think about anything else but the insane amount of pleasure piling up into your guts as you feel yourself reaching your high at a rocket speed. 
“What happened to you, baby? Lost your tongue?” he smirks, slowing down for a bit only to go harder a second after, forcing your back against the wheel so hard the car starts to honk with each thrust, making you nervous while Hongjoong doesn’t seem to bother about the sudden attention. 
“H—hongjoong— backseat— please” you barely manage to moan, almost gasping for air with each word as your boyfriend eventually slows down until he comes to a stop, blessing you with the delightful sight of his dismantled face, sweaty and red with his black hair plastered all over his forehead, thick veins pulsating on each side of his throat, chest glowing with dampness. He couldn’t look hotter if he tried. Peeking at his underarm as he pulls you into a kiss, you refrain a moan at the sight of his tattoo as your tongue instantly melts with it, saltiness of sweat melting with your saliva as you come down from your high slightly while enjoying the complete bliss of cockwarming him for a while. 
Breaking the kiss, Hongjoong simply tilts his head to the side, motioning for the backseat, commanding as ever without actually saying the words. Obedient and climax deprived, you lift yourself up and off his lap, trying your best to crawl in the backseat with as much grace as possible while Hongjoong wiggles out of his pants just enough to give himself more room as he follows you there, visibly unpleased to find you with your back against the seat, facing him. Again, without a word, Hongjoong gives you a little twirl of his finger, ordering for you to turn around and get on all fours for him, smacking your ass as soon as it rises upfront in all its glory. 
Pushing a knee between your legs to spread them apart, Hongjoong spits into his palm, coating it with saliva as you squirms with impatience, picturing his fist around his cock as soon as the familiar sound of your boyfriend jerking himself off hits you, making you clench over nothing — luckily not for long as the comforting stretch of his cock tearing you apart steals the air out of your lungs merely a few seconds later. 
“Fuck I’ve been dying to have you like this since you put on that dress, tonight” Hongjoong grunts, one of his hands wrapping your hair into a tight ponytail while the other rests firmly at the small of your back. Although his thrusts are definitely slower this time, you can’t help but cry out everytime he bottoms out, filling you up to the brim with each snap of his vicious hips.
“What took you so long?” you moan, hands clenched around the head-rest as Hongjoong tugs at your hair a little harder, probably as a punishment for provoking him again. 
“Couldn’t wait to get you alone— although maybe I should’ve fucked you right accross the table for everyone to see? I know you’re desperate for an audience…” The filth of his words match the brutality of his hips as Hongjoong pulls out entirely, smacking his throbbing head against your clit until you whine with desperation. By now, that dress is completely ruined, crumbled around your hips like a vulgar rag and definitely covered with sweat and cum but you can definitely recall the way Hongjoong’s eyes had twinkled when giving him a little spin earlier in the privacy of your bedroom. You knew he was a goner every time you wore a dress so thin he could catch a glimpse of your tits hardening under the fabric and today wasn’t any different. If it wasn’t for the unexpected Wooyoung-gate, you knew Hongjoong would have fucked you braindead in the sketchy bathroom of the bar. Not that it would be a first. 
“H— joongie— i’m— close” you almost sob, already overstimulated as your guts suddenly tighten into a knot, your body almost collapsing under Hongjoong’s last efforts to get you exactly where he needs you. Lifting you up with one arm snaked around your chest, fist locking your throat, Hongjoong quickens the pace, the abundance of skin-on-skin mixed with the brutality of his thrusts making the car shake under your knees as you suddenly stiffens under his touch, your screams muffled into his palm as your boyfriend is quick to follow, thick white ropes filling you up to the brim as you both collapse against the seat, exhausted.
It takes you a while to come down from your high as Hongjoong helps you settle back into the seat, cradling you. Your hands filled with strands of his wet hair, pushing it back to unveil his blissful face, you cannot help but sigh with the most sincere happiness when his lips find your neck, pecking it slightly, his tongue darting against a bruise left from his fingers tightly wrapped around your throat earlier. In this moment, nothing much matters except for the two of you and the unconditional love you two share.
No more jealousy. No more fighting. 
623 notes · View notes
wonwoonlight · 5 months
Text
just one day / yoon jeonghan
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⇢ Jeonghan x fem!Reader
⇢ word count: 4.5k
⇢ fluff // angst // nonidol!au // brother's best friend // fake dating!au // they're idiots lmao // not edited nor proofread so pls bear w me lol // cursing and. two? kissing scenes.
⇢ A/N: this has been sitting unfinished in my google drive since... either last year or the beginning of this year lmao. i have always wanted to write brother's best friend and i had this sudden urge to finish it earlier so i did. been some time since i posted a proper fic so, enjoy~
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He must be dreaming.
He must be.
“What?” Jeonghan says just for the sake of saying it.
“I like you.”
“No, you don’t.”
You blink at his firm voice, wondering what kind of situation this is. Sure, you shouldn’t be confessing to your brother’s best friend, but you feel like you’ve been obvious enough and you don’t see why you shouldn’t confess when it’s been eating you inside out.
And, yeah, you didn’t expect him to do anything about your confession (or even say that he likes you back), but you didn’t expect this either.
“What do you mean I don’t?” you frown, looking at him accusingly. “I like you.”
“You don’t, kid.” He sighs, already feeling a headache coming. He’s not stupid, alright, he has enough sense to gather that his best friend’s little sister probably has something on him–a crush, perhaps, but he’s never thought it was real enough for you to feel the need to confess.
It doesn’t help that he is attracted to you, has always been since you’ve gone back from Sydney after finishing university a year ago. He admits he’s always thought you’re attractive, and if he’s being honest, he would’ve asked you out first if not for the fact that you’re literally Joshua Hong’s little sister.
As if it’s not enough that not dating his best friend’s little sister has always been a code he follows, Shua has always been a little too protective as a brother. He’s seen firsthand how the guy scared off some who had the guts to flirt with you, seen how for two decades only two guys had ever been declared good enough to date you (he couldn’t do anything about the flings you had when you were abroad, but at least you’ve always been appreciative of his protectiveness and you never missed to inform him of some guys who were actually trying to get it on with you).
Long story short, Jeonghan does not wish to be on the receiving end of Shua’s scrutinizing eyes regardless of how much he’s actually into you.
“Look, you know me,” he starts when he realizes you’re not backing down. He looks away, pretending to be frustrated, though it’s really just because he thinks he’ll relent if he looks into your eyes a second longer. “I’m not gonna make a good boyfriend and I’m literally your brother’s best friend.”
You don’t seem to care about the first part of his sentence, irked by the fact that him being best friend with Shua would be an obstacle in your way. Shouldn’t it be easier for him to get a seal of approval if he’s already close with your brother? But, then again, Shua probably knows Jeonghan inside out and knowing too much is never a good thing.
“So what?” you say anyway, because if there’s any word that would describe you perfectly, it’s ‘stubborn’. “Why does it matter that you’re his best friend?”
Jeonghan sends you a look, and you pout because you actually get what he means. You know Shua, after all, and as much as you want to condition yourself to believe that Jeonghan would be the person Shua approves of with all his heart, you also know that even if your brother actually approves, he would put him through hell just for the fun of it.
Anyway, this doesn’t tell you at all where Jeonghan actually stands about you.
“So, you don’t like me?” you shoot straight to it, as if Jeonghan wouldn’t be able to hear your heart beating like there’s no tomorrow if he takes even one step closer–as if your ears aren’t hot from saying it out loud. Jeonghan does not need to know how flustered you actually are.
And it works, because he seems to be taken aback by your boldness and you try your best to hide a victory grin at that. You should probably be more grateful that he can’t stand to look at you for more than three seconds; if he had, he would’ve seen the tip of your ears turning red and the speck of blush on your face, which means he could’ve easily taken control of the situation and turned it against you.
His silence encourages you, because if he really doesn’t like you then he would tell you so. As much as Jeonghan is a master of tricks and he’s great at acting, he’s never been good at hiding his feelings.
Jeonghan bites his lip, trying to get a way out of this. Why can’t he just say no and be done with it? Sure, he’s not in love with you or anything (yet?), but it’s a straight out lie to say he’s never seen you that way.
After all, there’s a reason why he’s been avoiding you the past few months. 
You just have to be more daring these days, and as much as he wills himself to behave, there are times when he’s already flirting with you before he knows it. He’s just lucky Shua has never caught you two.
Plus, you’ve taken a liking to wearing a crop top and it’s the absolute death of him.
“Tell you what,” you say before he does. “Date me.”
Jeonghan chokes on nothing, violently coughs that his shoulders are shaking and you actually need to pat his back so he’ll calm down.
“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, and he’s terribly conscious of your hand on his shoulder and the other on his arm, of the way your brows furrow in concern, of the way your lips are a little ajar and if he moves forward just a little–
“Yeah.” He shakes his head despite the word, then clears his throat and squares his shoulders before he looks the other way around. He doesn’t step away though, and it’s so fucking stupid that he frowns when you do. “Sorry. You were saying?”
“Date me.” You repeat anyway, though you know this is Jeonghan’s way of  giving you an out in case you want to pretend like you didn’t just say that earlier. He opens his mouth, and you can hear what he’s going to say even if he hasn’t said anything so you cut him yet again. “Just for one day.”
“Kid–”
“Stop,” you say firmly, something akin to determination flashes through your eyes that he’s actually taken aback. “Stop calling me that.”
He sighs out your name, but you’re not hearing it because if you back down now you know you won’t have it in you to say this out loud again. You’re fueled by nothing but impulse and you’re not going to let Yoon Jeonghan himself slow you down.
“Han, I see the way you look at me–you’ve gone past seeing me as a kid since I came back from Sydney and it’s been a year since then. I’m not stupid.”
It’s hard to describe the way he looks at you, and he’s not blaming you because he is confused. The mixed feelings bursting in his chest is much too complicated for him to explain. Let alone through words, even his consciousness does not know how to register what he’s feeling.
Your face falls at his silence, and whatever courage that drives you up to this point is starting to ebb little by little. You’re so goddamn stupid–did you really think confessing to him would lift the weight off your shoulders? What made you think Jeonghan would be able to treat you as usual after you confessed?
Didn’t you confess only because it’s heaving you down? Because you thought you’d regret it if you stayed silent?
Then what is this weight on your chest? 
What is this disappointment looming all over your body?
Why the fuck are your eyes pricking with tears?
Still, you stand your ground and square yourself up in front of him. You’ve gone this far. If you’re going to be embarrassing, might as well do it for a reason. 
“Okay,” he breaks his silence, his tone defeated for whatever reason. It’s not discouraging though, more like unsure and maybe a little hopeful, and when you look up, he’s biting his lip in contemplation. “Just one day, right?”
“But you have to actually treat me like I’m your girlfriend.” You push, heart beating both in excitement and fear. Because what if he backs out of nowhere? He’s not that kind of person, but this situation is nothing sort of normal and his consciousness just might get to him if you don’t push him already.
Jeonghan bites his lip, looking at you like you’re a bad idea that he’s caving into. And he’s starting to think that it’s true. But if he’s being honest, he’s not against this at all. He also wants to know how it’d feel like to hold your hands and just listen to you talk without thinking about Shua and whatever that will follow if he ever finds out.
Frankly, one day wouldn’t be enough, but that’s better than nothing, right? And he would never have the guts to propose it himself, he admits, so this is a chance that he knows he wouldn’t get his hands on ever again.
He sighs, praying to every god up there that this won’t backfire on him.
“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than to you, and then repeats it once again, this time firmer, looking at you straight in the eyes. “Shua’s going on a business trip next week, right?”
You nod.
“I’ll see you next Saturday?”
You bite down your lip so hard that you taste blood to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot.
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Tuesday, 26 July
[14:32] Yoon Jeonghan😠: beach or amusement park
[14:50] ?????
[14:50] its not a surprise?
[14:54] Yoon Jeonghan😠: just pick one, kid
[14:55] 🙄 beach ig
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Thursday, 28 July
[01:11] Yoon Jeonghan😠: festival or night market
[01:12] ?????? sir?? go to sleep??
[01:12] didnt you choose a place alrd???
[01:12] but night market
[01:13] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you go to sleep
Yoon Jeonghan😠 is typing…
Yoon Jeonghan😠 is typing…
[01:17] Yoon Jeonghan😠: good night, kid
[01:18] nightttttt
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Friday, 29 July
[22:20] Yoon Jeonghan😠: wear something light tomorrow, but bring a jacket just in case it gets cold at night
Saturday, 30 July
[00:03] k, boyfriend 😌
[00:03] sorry, i was on the phone with chaeyoung earlier
[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: i really cant with you
[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: and chaeyoung as in vernon’s cousin? your friend from high school?
[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you still talk to her?
[00:08] yes!! surprised that u rmb her :0
[00:08] and i actually just met her by accident earlier today and we decided to catch up thru the phone bc i had to go somewhere
[00:09] apparently, she’s dating choi seungcheol or smth 👀
Incoming call from Yoon Jeonghan😠 - 00:11
Call ended - 02:27
[02:27] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you fell asleep. night, babe 🤪 see you
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You bite your lip in giddiness as you keep on rereading Jeonghan’s text, like you’re not giddy enough already at the prospect of today.
You fell asleep last night while on the phone with Jeonghan, but whatever curse you were about to dump into yourself for falling asleep during what might be your only chance to be on the phone with Jeonghan during ungodly hours was immediately wiped out when you saw his text.
Yes, you’d flirt with each other from time to time–but never through texts, and the prospect of having a message from him that you can read over and over again some time in the future is both delightful and… sad.
The sudden tug on your heart and consciousness is a little heavy, a reminder that he’s doing that because you asked him to. That whatever’s happening in the span of today is an illusion, one that Jeonghan agrees on creating.
Why, you don’t want to dwell on it too much.
That should be your motto for the day: fuck it.
So what if it was an illusion? Jeonghan agreed and you’re going to make the best out of it. If you’re never going to be Jeonghan’s girlfriend, might as well be shameless and live your teenage (and adult, if you’re being honest) dream and be his girlfriend for the day now so you can stamp it in your memory. You only have today and you’re not going to spend any second thinking about the technicality of it.
As far as you know, Jeonghan is your boyfriend and he’s taking you out for the day.
You jump when your phone pings, the notification on your lockscreen rids you of whatever negativity that was in your mind literally seconds ago as you grin and make your way out of your apartment.
[09:17] Yoon Jeonghan😠: am in the lobby. get ur pretty self here, angel.
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For all you know, the world is plenty unfair. But seeing Jeonghan looking like that with a simple white tee and a faded pair of jeans reminds you just how unfair the world actually is. Like it’s not unfair enough already because he’s not your actual boyfriend.
“Come on, let me take a picture of you,” he says as he softly takes your hand, pulling you up from the mat. “The wind isn’t too strong and you’re looking particularly pretty today.”
You scrunch your nose as you mock annoyance, a failed attempt to mask your blush. Hopefully, Jeonghan would think you’re simply flushed because of the sun and not because of him.
“I don’t like taking pictures.”
“How dare you lie to me.” Jeonghan says without missing a beat. “I know you make Shua take a ton shit pictures of you when you’re out somewhere.”
You pout at this, and as much as you know Jeonghan doesn’t mean anything by it, the mention of your brother isn’t exactly welcome today because his name just reminds you that this isn’t real and he’s a big part of the reason why.
“Can you not talk about my brother?” You say softly, which Jeonghan easily catches even if he’s not sure you mean for him to hear or not. The sadness in your voice is genuine though, and he makes a mental note to stop mentioning Joshua for the rest of the day. He’s starting to question once again if this is the right thing to do even for a day–after all, Joshua is his best friend, and this particular conversation is the exact reason why he’s not supposed to do this.
But he’s promised you he’ll treat you like his girlfriend–perhaps another personal agenda of his because he does want to experience being able to be your boyfriend even for a day. He should’ve thought more before okay-ing your proposal instead of thinking about it right now when you’re in front of him, in a simple white shirt and a black skirt that stops just below the middle of your thigh but somehow still the prettiest he’s ever seen. 
He wonders if this is how you usually dress up for your dates, and something bitter makes it to the tip of his tongue as he thinks about someone else taking you on a date. 
“Sorry. Come on, let’s take a picture together.” His fingers wrap around your wrist to pull you closer before eventually linking them with yours. “You’re very pretty today, have I told you?”
“You have.” You scrunch your nose and pretend to roll your eyes at the sudden sweetness he basks you in even though you’re liking every second of it. “Literally one minute ago.”
“Well, you really do look very beautiful and I want you to know.” He lowers his voice an octave and stares right into your eyes before he eventually bursts out laughing.
“Stop!” You giggle, knowing that he’s doing this on purpose to annoy you. “That’s too fucking cheesy and you know it.”
He laughs along with you, then tightens his fingers in yours like they’re not interlocked already.
“I mean it though.” He whispers one last time, not looking at you this time around because his heart might fucking burst to say it to your face without the faux of messing with you. “You do look beautiful.”
At least you share the sentiment, as you quietly duck your head to hide your smile, whispering a thanks that’s only meant for the two of you.
Jeonghan keeps his end of the bargain, you’re happy to know, as you don’t even think about your brother and the pretense that is your relationship for the rest of the day. You freely flirt with each other, cheeky smile and winks being thrown here and there. His hands never seem to leave you, and you gladly cling on to him even if you don’t need to.
You get ice cream, insist that you want the plain strawberry one only to eventually switch with Jeonghan’s cookies and creams because his looks better. He plays hard to get before giving in to you, but not before swiping ice cream from the side of your lips and licks his thumb like that shit isn’t going to give you a heart attack.
It’s around seven when you both get to the night market not too far from the beach, and you’re both even gigglier than earlier which you didn’t think was possible. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you’re the furthest thing from complaining as you continue at whatever dumb jokes Jeonghan throws your way.
The night market isn’t as crowded as you think it would be, but it still is crowded and Jeonghan makes a show of throwing his arm around your shoulder because he ‘doesn’t want to lose you’ and you seem a little cold (which you kinda are).
You elbow him at this, shake your head and pretend like you’re not internally dying from the closeness between the two of you.
“That’s so lame.” You snicker. “Just say you want me close and go.”
“I do want you close.” He whispers unexpectedly, catching you entirely off guard that you trip on your own foot you almost fall on your face. He doesn’t seem to realize you tripped because you’re flustered, which works good for you, and he flicks your forehead as he scolds you to be more careful and goes back to holding your hand.
“Seriously. How are you still so clumsy?”
You don’t like being reprimanded by Jeonghan, because it awfully reminds you that you’re younger than him–that you’re his best friend’s little sister. And as much as you know Jeonghan definitely does not see you as a sister, the implication that he has to see you as one because of the association is very disheartening. 
“Why are you frowning?” He copies the gesture, and you shake your head, telling him it’s nothing. The night is ending, and you don’t want to waste more time thinking about stuff that you can think of tomorrow when you’re not in a time limited relationship with Yoon Jeonghan. “No, tell me–”
“Jeonghan?”
The both of you turn at the call of his name, and your frown deepens as you see Jisoo in front of you, Jeonghan’s ex that he amicably broke up with. The one ex that has always made you feel like shit because she’s everything you’re not and they were such a picture perfect couple that you’re sure they’d go back together someday.
It does not feel good to see her today of all days.
“Oh, hi!” She kindly greets you, her smile way too genuine for you to think she’s just being polite and secretly hates you inside. Gosh. You need to stop watching too many TV dramas. “Joshua’s sister… right?”
There it is again. The reminder that you’re his sister–something you really don’t need to hear today.
“Hi.” You smile awkwardly, and only then remember your hand is still pretty much joined with Jeonghan’s. You don't know how to feel about the fact that his reflex is not to let go of your hand in front of his ex who obviously knows your brother. You try to let go of his hand, but Jeonghan holds on tighter, as if telling you it’s okay and there’s no need to worry about Jisoo.
They share a small chat for a bit before eventually parting, and Jisoo wishes you both a good night, which makes you hate yourself so much for being jealous of the girl when she doesn’t even have an ounce of bad energy towards you.
You try to enjoy the rest of the night, but Jisoo’s appearance just reminds you that this whole thing is pretty much fake. That someone out there is going to be in your place for real–able to hold his hand and just be with him all the time without having to wait for your brother to go on a business trip to even hang out with each other. Without some stupid request and guilt eating them inside out because they’re not supposed to do this.
Trying to be subtle, you put on an act of wanting to visit every stall in the festival and pretend to be tired after about thirty minutes or so. You’re surprised Jeonghan isn’t already tired to begin with, this guy has the battery of a five-years-old phone, you didn’t expect him to actually bring you around until night if you’re being completely honest.
Jeonghan complies when you tell him you’re ready to go home, and you don’t even realize he’s also being weirdly quiet because you’re too deep in your thoughts. And it’s once his car is parked on the parking lot of your apartment building that you finally open your mouth trying to say something–anything.
You want to thank him for today. To thank him for making a memory that you’ll dearly hold on to, for giving you a standard of what a boyfriend is supposed to be even for a day. For fulfilling your dumb request when he doesn’t even have to.
But what comes out of your mouth is something entirely different and you almost want to bash your head against the door of his car right after.
“Whoever’s going to be your girlfriend is very lucky.”
You can hear Jeonghan takes a sharp breath, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying because you’re just so fucking stupid like that.
You try to remind yourself that you asked for this. That Jeonghan is doing you a favour and owes you nothing. That you should be thankful you’ve even gotten the chance to play girlfriend with him when he could’ve just embarrassed you and walked away after your proposal.
The deafening silence inside the car is very loud, and you feel like you’re suffocated by things unseen that you just want to get out of the car and take a very deep breath. So you do just that: reach for the door of his car because you can’t take being so close to him anymore.
It’s your fault. You shouldn’t have asked for this. Shouldn’t have asked for a taste of heaven because surely you would want more and you’ll die of thirst right after. Now you’re just going to be awkward with him until god knows when and you’re regretting it already. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
You should’ve been satisfied with your close friendship with him, with loving him from afar. Now you’ve ruined things between you and him and who knows when things will get back to normal? He’ll fucking think of you as pathetic and it’s just going to be pity in his eyes everytime he looks at you now.
“Hey!” Jeonghan jumps in alert the moment you step out of his car, quickly follows through and catches you before you take another step away from him. “What–why are you in such a hurry?”
You look down to your shoes, because you can’t stomach looking at him right now just in case you’ll see what you fear will be reflected in his eyes.
“Hey… Look at me?” He tries once again, tone getting a little helpless. But you shake your head, because you’re sure you’ll start crying if you do and you want to preserve the little dignity you still have in front of him. But Jeonghan doesn’t stop there, he whispers a ‘please?’ and lifts your chin gently so you’ll look at him, his heart breaking when he sees how close you are to tears and his throat closing at how he’s the reason behind all this.
“Thank you.” You brave yourself. It’s the least you can do, because as much as you’re going to grovel for the next few months, you know that this particular memory with Jeonghan will always be dear to your heart and you’ll treasure it forever. “I’m sorry for taking your time and–”
“Ah, fuck it.” You hear him say before he dives into your lips, not minding the way you’re frozen in place out of shock. He hums against your lips, and it’s then that you finally kiss him back, your hands settle over his shoulders and your whole body relaxed under his touch.
When the both of you pull away, you’re a little out of breath and your thoughts all over the place. But there’s a small smile in Jeonghan’s face that gets you mirroring the gesture. He closes his eyes as he places his forehead on yours, and you follow suit, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face.
“It’s… okay for me to do that, right?” He asks, albeit a little too late. You still don’t know what the whole things mean, but you find yourself chuckling, because you honestly would let him do anything to you. But he doesn’t need to know the kind of power he has over you, so you simply nod and let him have his peace.
“Han?” You say after a while. “What does this mean for us?”
Jeonghan stares into your eyes, deep in his own thoughts as if he’s trying to rearrange his words so they don’t stumble out of his mouth like a trainwreck.
“Let’s see where this takes us?”
“But Shua…?”
He presses his lips together and wraps his arms around you, pushing you into his neck as he breathes in your scent.
“Whatever happens, happens.” He decides, already resigning that he can’t possibly let you go now that he knows how it feels like to have you like this. He’ll make your brother understand somehow, but right now, he wants to be with you and savors the little time he has with you before your brother comes back, not even minding the way his phone has been vibrating in his pocket.
[Joshua sent a picture.]
Joshua: heard from Jisoo you’re on a date w my sister??????????????????
Joshua: did you finally get out of your ass and stop being in denial lmaoooooooooooooo
Joshua: just pls be safe
Joshua: she’s still my sister
Joshua: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don’t allow any reposting, translation, and any other kind of redistribution of this fic. Please tell me if you’re aware of anyone doing this without my permission.
1K notes · View notes
livingemkayde · 9 months
Text
waterfront
neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader
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Warnings: Rated 18+. CONSIDER THIS YOUR FUCKING COMMUNITY LABEL LOL. Minors please dni. Smut. unprotected p in v. age gap. Pet names. Dirty talk. Dom!joel. Oblivious ass reader's dad. Not proof read one bit (per usual). 
a/n: thank you so much for the recent love. you guys are honestly so funny - COMMENT ASK REQUEST PLEASE INTERACT WITH ME IM SO LONELY ON HERE. this lil mini series has really pushed me to write despite some…things (and by things—i actually have been getting a shit ton of hate on my din fic for some weird reason?? so im really happy this dbf corner of tumblr is very accepting cuz that was really making me feel…SAD LMFAO). also do you guys picture joel in this fic as game joel or hbo joel - i wanna know. please enjoy this token of my gratitude as always. 
wc: 4.5k
this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:
part i part ii
if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!
“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars.  “That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.” 
“Sweetie? Have you seen the sunblock?” 
“Yeah dad, in the back bathroom!” you yell back from your room. 
It’s honestly unbelievable. 
Packing. 
You’re packing. 
For a weekend getaway at some beach house property one of Joel’s client’s offered him for the weekend.
Joel’s client. 
Joel Miller.
Who got down on his knees for you at your graduation barbecue. Who fingered you in the front seat of his pick-up truck when your dad was looking for you. 
Who refused to talk to you after that. Not like you were trying anyways. This had to stop. Especially since you and Liam have been talking more and he’s…nice. Boring—sure. But he’s what’s good for you. 
He even got you a job at some hardware store on the other side of town. 
Liam was keeping you company—no—keeping you busy. But not enough to stop the incessant thoughts of your middle aged neighbor who is—even worse—probably your dad’s only close friend. 
You tried to keep your distance. For your sake and Joel’s. You don’t want to know what’s going on in his mind anymore. All you know is he continually runs laps around yours. 
You can’t shake how he looked at the barbecue. How the sea of people parted for him like he was Moses, greeting him with strong handshakes and acrylic nails wrapping around his bicep. But even worse, you can’t stop thinking about how through all those people—he found your eyes first. 
You tried to convince yourself that maybe Joel was thinking the same thing you were. That this—whatever it is—was actually fucking ridiculous and had to stop. 
Because it did have to stop. But it never felt ridiculous to you, as much as you will yourself to believe. 
You tried to convince yourself that much when your hand was down your pants in the middle of the night. Something sounding a lot like Joel’s name on the tip of your tongue as you made yourself come. 
You aren’t sure if your dad has seen much of him either—saying something about how he was booked through the fourth of July weekend with a huge project he was working on with his brother. 
That’s why you were shocked when your dad came up to your room with a grin explaining he counted you in on the weekend getaway with Joel, Sarah, and the two of you. 
You were excited to see more of Sarah — she had really grown up in the time you were away. But with Sarah comes Joel, and you aren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety or anticipation at that thought. 
A half a day after your dad told you to get packing, you’re in the backseat of Joel’s truck, Sarah at your side, while she talks everyone's ear off about something. You aren’t really paying attention because Joel can’t stop stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror—and let's be honest. You can’t stop either. 
“—so then she said to me that it was my fault. I mean can you believe that?” Sarah slaps your arm gently while finishing her story. 
She looks around the car for approval and the dads just shrug their shoulders. You give her a sympathetic look. 
“Sorry Sarah, sounds crazy,” you say, grabbing her hand. You—honest to god—tried to pay attention but there were so many names thrown out you couldn’t keep up. It didn’t help that the man in the driver's seat kept you up at night—almost every night—since the barbecue. 
“I know! But then Jackson was like okay with it so whatever,” she gives you a knowing look, finishing her story—don’t say anything else because my dad’s here.
“Boys,” your dad murmurs to Joel under his breath, but you catch it. 
You also catch Joel shaking his head in response, letting out a huff and a—
“Tell me ‘bout it.” 
You meet his eye through the rear view mirror and drop his gaze quickly. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel. 
You think you’re almost off the hook and maybe can get some rest but Sarah lets out the first of many—
“Are we almost there yet?” 
Four more of those and you arrive at a secluded beach house on the coast. Joel pulls up to the back of the house, you can see the deck which leads down to the beach. Sarah and your dad hop out of the truck hastily—excited to see the house, and enter through the back door. It leaves you and Joel in the car together. Alone, for a few uncomfortable seconds until he finally speaks. 
“You alright?” 
It throws you for a loop. Joel Miller asking if you’re okay? You must be dying. You look at him through the mirror, an eyebrow raising. 
“‘M fine,” you reply back, monotone.
“Do you wanna talk?” 
Another surprise. 
“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that clear,” you huff, putting an emphasis on you so maybe he can start to feel an ounce of what you do. 
He gets out of the car but you don’t move from your position. Your dad and Sarah have disappeared into the house, undoubtedly claiming the best bedrooms and rifling through the owner’s things. 
He opens your door, his hand hanging off the top of it while his other braces himself on the car near your head. He dips his head closer to you, taking up the entirety of the door frame. 
“You gonna be a brat this whole trip?” His drawl, rich and velvety, almost tricks you into leaning up to kiss him, but you snap out of it from his words. The name shouldn’t make you clench your thighs together like it does. You opt for anger over letting him see what he does to you.
“I’m the brat?” You bite back. He’s not going to do this again. If it’s your last dying wish, Joel Miller will learn a lesson this trip. For leaving you high and dry. For being a fucking asshole, just like you told him at the barbecue a couple days ago.
“You think parading that lil boy ‘round here s’okay?”
“Again with Liam? It’s not any of your business.” 
You look at him. Really look at him—and there’s a certain emotion behind his eyes you can’t place. Like he’s biting his tongue, and you know he is.
“What, Joel? God,” you say, exasperated. 
“Nothin’—I—” he pauses like he’s trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. Then he says something that surprises you—like maybe he really does care about you and what happened in his truck. 
“He make you laugh?” 
You stare at him, shocked, and you can’t help but soften your gaze. You feel like bursting into a puddle of tears—but what’s even worse—you feel like running into his arms. 
“He doesn’t make me cry.” 
He looks down at that. Like he’s defeated. 
“I told you I care,” he throws his words back in your face. From when he had his tongue buried inside you. 
You roll your eyes. 
“What? You think I want it like this?” He continues when you don’t respond.
“I have no fucking idea what you want.” 
“I want to not be sneaking around behind my friend’s back. Your dad’s back.”
“Didn’t stop you before.”
He pushes off the car at that, putting his hands on his hips while scoffing to himself. You think you catch him mumbling something and before you can bite your tongue you urge him to speak up. 
“Insane,” he grunts.
“Sorry?” 
“I said you drive me fuckin’ insane.” 
You pause at that. Partially because his tone suggests it’s not the typical insane but like he can’t stay away from you. Like you drive him up the walls. Like he can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe even the kind of insane he makes you feel. Maybe it's the same thing he does to you. And you didn’t know you did…anything to Joel. 
“That’s my job,” you reply sarcastically instead of saying something stupid—or something you regret. 
You break his gaze—looking down to unlatch your seatbelt. When your hand goes to click the button, you stay fiddling with it; the latch fails to come out of the buckle. 
“‘S jammed. Need to get a repair,” he reaches over you to unlatch it himself. 
But you don’t get your hand out of the way quick enough and your fingers meet over the button. 
He pauses, you both do. The contact makes your head spin. 
You think he’s going to pull away. An apology is already braced on your tongue but instead of moving or retracting, he tentatively rubs your hand with his thumb instead, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature. 
He’s in your space, and he smells like Joel, and you don’t think the two of you have ever shared a more intimate moment. Not even when his mouth was between your legs. 
You look up at him, hesitant, because you aren’t sure what’s going to be looking back. But he stares at you, his eyes soft. Joel looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His brow twitches a bit. You let out soft pants—the peaks of your breasts threaten to ghost against his chest. 
He looks at your lips again and inches closer, starting to duck his head. 
“‘M sorry,” he grumbles in a low, dangerous drawl that shoots right up your spine. 
You don’t think it’s a phrase he says often. You’ve never heard it. It sounds foreign on his lips, especially when they’re inching closer to yours. 
“For what?” You squeak out, a breath cutting through your words. 
“Everythin’.” 
Your eyes urge him to continue. 
“Thought I could stay away f’m you.” 
He gets closer. 
“Thought it was the right thing.” 
You shake your head. 
“But I don’t think I can stay away.” 
“Don’t stay away. Don’t go,” you plead with him and shake your head. All of your plans to make him pay have honestly gone out the window. But when he says things like that and he really—honest to god—means them? You know you’re fucked. 
“'M here.” 
You close your eyes at his words and will your tears back when they close. All you can smell is Joel and all you can feel is his hand coming up to loosely wrap around your throat, the curve of his palm hugging your collar bone. 
“Look at me.” In a blink, you do. 
He’s closer, if possible. 
And he kisses you. It’s the first time he’s ever kissed you. It’s not tentative, or aggressive.
This kiss feels like the real apology. Not him on his knees for you and then ignoring you after. He kisses like he’s willing you to forgive him. You know he’s not good with words—that’s why this kiss feels like the heartbreak that had settled in your chest is scattering. It feels like your old fantasies and butterflies breaching the surface are making you moan into his mouth. 
He kisses you like a man starved, but also like he’s scared of messing up again. 
It feels fucking good—he feels fucking good. 
His hand on your throat lengthens your neck to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his bicep and squeeze the life out of him. 
His other hand pulls at the hem of your shirt and almost ghosts the skin of your stomach but the sound of a door slamming snaps you both out of it. Joel turns to see Sarah pushing out of the patio door with her back turned towards you, carrying towels and a cooler. He quickly unbuckles your seatbelt with dexterous fingers, helping you out of the car.
You act like you were helping him unload the flatbed when Sarah turns around—a big smile cast on her face.
“Get your bikini on! Let’s go!” She looks at you and nods towards the ocean over her stack of beach supplies. 
“Alright, alright, I’m going.” 
You hustle into the house with a duffle slung over your shoulder. You can see your dad in the kitchen rifling through the pantry—the cooler for drinks and food abandoned on the floor near the fridge. 
You find a bathroom and change into your swimsuit quickly. You don’t miss the wet spot on your panties. From a kiss nonetheless. You’re beginning to think you’re way more fucked than either you or Joel like to believe. 
You rush out onto the patio. Sarah is probably shoulder deep in the water and it’s way too fucking hot to be sitting under the sun without taking a dip. You haven’t been to a nice beach like this in a really long time. You don’t remember the last time you went on vacation. 
This is nice.  
Joel is being way too…nice. 
You pass him on the way to the beach where you see Sarah jumping through the water. He looks at you, subtly. Out of the corner of his eye. You try to avoid his gaze and hide your blush but you can feel his burning eyes shift to the back of your head as you give him a small smile in passing. 
“Dad! C’mon let's go!” Sarah yells from the water. You look to see Joel staring back at you—you drop his eye when your dad busts through the door. 
“‘N a minute!” Joel grumbles as he throws his duffle over his shoulder, carting in a crate of barbecue things for the weekend. 
Your flip flops splat on the deck as you break into a small jog down to where Sarah is. She smiles at you as you run into the water. The two of you playing in the salty spring like teenagers—well she is—you aren’t. 
You can see your dad and Joel settle on beach chairs some yards away from the shoreline. They sport a couple beers and talk amongst themselves while watching you and Sarah play in the water. 
You catch Joel’s eye a couple times. He even comes down and throws around a football with your dad. He splashes and teases you all day. 
When the sun finally extends down to the horizon and the water turns orange from its light, Sarah tells you she’s beat and basically hobbles back over to the dads on the beach chairs. She slumps down onto the one next to Joel, you move towards them as well, trying not to blush because you know Joel is looking at you before you meet his eyes. 
“Tired?” Joel asks, not to you or Sarah in particular, but it falls on you—Sarah already asleep on the beach chair. 
“Exhausted.” You plop down on the chair beside your dad, taking a towel and drying your hair off before moving to the rest of your body. 
“Want dinner? I’ll make my burgers,” your dad inquires, beginning to stand and take the beers with him. 
“Sounds good dad.” You stand and wrap the towel around your body. “Need a shower.”
You try to wake Sarah up gently, she grumbles and stalks off to the house, you, trailing behind her. She kicks her flip flops off at the entrance and moves to the couch in the living room. She’s back asleep before you get the chance to enter the door. 
Your dad moves to the kitchen, you don’t know where Joel went. Maybe you left him back on the beach. You move to take a cold shower, the small tug in your stomach grew to be quite big when you caught him staring at your exposed skin on the beach. 
When you get upstairs, you enter your designated bedroom. You smile when you realize it has a bathroom attached to it. You strip off your bathing suit, putting it in the sink of your bathroom. 
You wrap a towel around your body and go to twist the knob of your shower. When you tug it towards hot it comes off the shower wall with a chink and you curse to yourself, the water coming out in a leak rather than a stream. 
You huff. This is not what you need right now. 
“Dad!” You call from the doorway of your bedroom—not wanting to venture further in just a towel. 
You turn away from the door—moving into the bathroom, trying to chance figuring out how to fix it instead, when a pair of footsteps fall by your bedroom door. 
“You okay?” A voice calls from your bedroom, but it’s not your dads. 
You jump at the sound of a honey rich southern drawl echoing your name as Joel pushes through the bathroom door to find you in your towel, holding the shower handle.
“Jesus—” he looks away with a cough, you can tell he’s shocked to see you in just a towel. But when he sees you holding the handle he does a double take. 
“What the hell did y’do?” He flips between giving you privacy and moving toward you with an outstretched hand, taking the shower handle into his own. 
“I just tried to turn it on and it snapped off,” you try to reason with him, a flush coming to your cheeks when he comes into the bathroom. 
“Move,” he grumbles, sneaking by you. In the brief moment you come chest to chest, you look up at him and he lets out a groan. His hand snakes by your waist. He looks down at you—a dangerous look in his eyes. 
Joel breaks first, moving towards the shower. 
“I’m gonna—yeah—just…uh thanks,” you gesture to your towel and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. Leaving Joel in there alone. 
You throw on an oversized t-shirt and underwear before he comes out, sans shower handle. 
“Thanks,” you mumble, suddenly self conscious you didn’t have time to put on pants. You aren’t sure why. Joel’s seen…a lot already. 
“‘Course,” he says, but doesn’t leave like you anticipated. 
“You havin’ fun?” He asks. There’s something in his tone that suggests he doesn’t actually care. 
“Yeah,” you reply, breathless, “Thanks for inviting us.”  
“sorry—I—” he points to the bathroom, “thought you were in trouble or somethin’.” 
“‘S’okay.” 
He looks at you, and down to your bare legs, your underwear just peeking out from beneath your shirt’s hem. 
The way Joel looks at you—like you’re the only one who matters—stokes the fire growing in your stomach. The look in his eyes tells you he’s still wrestling with his moral compass. Like he needs to stay away for his own good, but like he said in the car—he just can’t. 
Joel nods, and steps back like he’s turning to leave. You don’t want him to. You need him. When you take a tentative step toward him, he suddenly breaks into stride in your direction. The dam of fleeting touches and wandering eyes for half a day breaks. He grabs your face in his hands, kissing you hard. His tongue slips to run over your bottom lip and you whine into his mouth. 
Your hands come up to rest on his chest. His, wrapping around your waist while he dips his head to start kissing your neck.
“Joel–” you start, but the feeling of his lips on the sensitive parts of your collarbone punches your breath.
He only hums at that sentiment. 
“Where are we going?” you manage to get out, when he’s tugging you into the bathroom by your wrist, shutting the door behind him. 
“Need to fuck you,” he groans into your ear as he spins you around, so your hips press into the bathroom counter. You can look into the mirror and see your reflection. You look entirely too fucked out from a couple kisses and he looks stone cold. 
“J-Joel—ah—jesus,” you moan when his hand dips to your front and catches your clit through cotton. 
“Say please,” he groans into the skin of your neck. You turn your head to catch his lips in a chaste kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, but you don’t mind either way. He’s close, he’s here and he’s kissing you. 
You break away from the kiss just enough to whine out a small, “Please–fuck–”
You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but you know if that’s what he wants—you’d give him anything in this particular moment. 
“Nicer.” 
You whine, the pad of his finger catches your clit just right.
“Please, Joel,” you cut out through bated breath. 
He huffs, you can hear the sound of clinking and shuffling behind you—the tell tale sign of his belt coming undone. 
“Alright, baby, c’mon,” he pushes you down, folds you in half, your breasts pressed against marble. It's cold, and his hot hands on your waist, snaking down to slot his fingers in your underwear makes you dizzy. 
“You’re a tease,” he groans when he eases your underwear to the side, the head of his cock catches your clit.
“Joel—p—fuck—” His cock catches at your entrance. You both pause for a second, reveling in the feeling. One of his hands grips your waist so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises by dinnertime. The other pushes your face down—fingers tangling in your hair. 
“Look in the mirror,” he growls, lifting your head up by your hair, just enough so you can watch his face as his tip slips past your entrance. 
He stretches you out just from that, you muffle down a scream in your throat. 
Joel’s mouth goes slack but he doesn’t react much with his face. He just looks down at your bodies connecting and pants while he slowly slides home. 
“‘S big Joel. Feel so good—oh my god—” he breaks you open and splits you in two. His breath cuts somewhere behind your head—your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. 
He buries himself to the hilt, you curse and mutter inconsistencies into the bathroom. His iron grip on your body goes tighter if possible. 
“Eyes open,” he growls behind you. “You can take it baby, c’mon.” 
You will open your eyes, focusing on him in the mirror. He has a sheen of sweat already casing his forehead, his shirt is half unbuttoned with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 
“Relax, angel,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me — could barely get it in,” 
He settles there, you try to relax but the stretch makes you squirm underneath him. He lets you adjust to his length, cursing every time you clench around him. It’s filthy. Obscene. He’s pushing your head up — lifting you by your hair, so you can see him spear into you with no remorse. He’s filthy, and so are you. 
“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars. 
“That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.” 
“More please,” you whine, meeting his eye in the mirror. The air is thick in the bathroom now, the potpourri on the sill of the window doesn’t really mask much of anything. 
He complies—surprisingly. Moving faster and harder, each push of his hips knocks you into the counter. The grip on your waist gets impossibly tight. The hand pulling at your hair finally lets you rest back down on the counter, pushing hair out of your face when you look back at him. It rests on the back of your neck. 
“Feel so good baby,” he groans. 
“Joel—I’m—I can’t, I’m gonna—” 
“C’mon angel, come for me,” he says, you take another peak at him through the mirror. He looks wrecked. But you look even worse. 
You get impossibly tight around him while he mutters things you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears. You think you hear him toss out a small that’s right when you finally spill over the edge. 
He fucks you through it, his pace doesn’t let up, the coldness of the counter brings you back to reality. Where his breaths are becoming groans and pants and he strokes your cheek with his thumb. 
“‘Nother,” is all he says when your tight walls finally relax, molding to him and only him. 
“I–I can’t—” you say, slumped against the counter. You sound cock drunk. It’s halfway true though. No one else has ever made you come twice in one night. You were starting to think it might be a myth. 
“Know you can, pretty girl,” he goes slow at that, angling down so the tip of his cock catches something inside you that lights the fire again. “There we go. ‘S okay, can feel it already.” 
He pushes you towards another orgasm, it washes over your entire body and you slump against the counter. Maybe it’s some sort of weird trance he has you in. Or maybe you were right and this — whatever it is — is getting bad. Fast. You’re threatening to fall. But he’s there, and he picks you up and holds you down. 
“Jesus. Fuck, baby,” he curses into your skin when your release coats his cock and lets him sink deeper, thrust faster, push harder. 
“Joel—fuck. Fuck.” Maybe the overstimulation should be getting to you, but you stay there like that, as he speeds up and his thrusts become more frantic. He chases after his own orgasm. 
“Turn over,” he says, hastily. His hands move at your body before you can process his words. He flips you around and slots himself in between your legs—sliding back in deep, grinding into you while folding over so his head is in the crook of your neck. 
“Please,” you whimper. You both know what you’re asking for. But he pulls out, ripping your shirt up and spilling all over your stomach and breasts. It coats you, the liquid hot and he dips his head to watch it coat your body. He lets out a strangled string of curses, bracing himself on the counter as he comes. 
He kisses you. Really kisses you. You grab his face and moan into it. Like you’re willing him to stay there, in between your legs forever. 
But he breaks first, moving to grab a towel out of the cabinet above the toilet. He cleans you up gently, wetting the towel with warm water before it touches your skin. The sentiment could make you cry. 
When he’s done cleaning you up, he kisses your forehead. Joel wraps his arms around you as you sling yours over his shoulders. He holds you there, his hand coming to cup the back of your head, stroking your hair and breathing hot kisses into your crown. You smile, lazily. 
He pulls back just enough to look at you. You know you still look wrecked and are in desperate need of a shower—he looks perfect by contrast, completely untouched and definitely unbothered. 
“Dangerous,” he mutters when you look at him through your lashes. 
You kiss him instead of responding.
You know Joel's right—this is dangerous. 
But it feels way too good to stop. 
_
part iv
taglist! (comment or message me if you would like to be added) kisses to you all:
@nostalxgic @iluvurfather
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corroded-hellfire · 6 months
Note
hello!! i have seen so many eddie x fem reader but never a chubby fem reader so? can u do one and plz take as much time
(can it also be smut???)
- suki
This honestly felt cathartic to write. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy 🩵
Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, f!receiving, body image issues
Words: 4.5k
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"Ugh, it’s so cheesy.”
Eddie groans and drops his head back against the couch dramatically. You scoff as you watch him out of the corner of your eye, wanting to keep most of your attention on the flickering television screen in front of you. The end of An Officer and a Gentleman plays, where Richard Gere picks up Debra Winger and carries her off bridal style.
“I think it’s romantic,” you say, lazily flicking your hand at your boyfriend’s chest. 
His dark eyebrows raise up to meet his bangs as he kicks his socked feet up on the cluttered coffee table. 
“Really?” he asks. “So, you’re saying you want me to just scoop you up like that and carry you?”
The snort that comes out of you isn’t intentional, but Eddie’s words force it to come out. 
“Hell no,” you tell him. “You’d break your back.”
Eddie’s previously raised eyebrows furrow as he stares at you. His spine straightens and he crosses his arms across his chest, offense leaking into his posture. 
“What do you mean?”
Surely, he must be joking, you think. But the way his gaze is focused on you makes you realize he’s serious.
“Eddie.” You brandish your hand towards your larger body before gesturing to his own svelte frame. 
Unsure how to feel about your insinuation, Eddie shifts in his seat to face you better. He eyes your body, something that always makes you feel a little self-conscious even if it’s in an admiring fashion.
“You think I can’t carry you?” he asks.
“Not without blowing out your back.” 
That has Eddie pushing himself up off the couch and rubbing his hands together. He nods to you as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.
“Let me try,” he says.
“No.” You don’t move an inch. 
Eddie’s shoulders slump, reminding you of a deflating beach ball as he begins to pout.
“Babe,” he whines. “Come on.” 
“No, Eddie,” you reply, tone more definitive this time. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” He waves off your concern as if it’s the last thing on his mind. But you’re aware that it’s very real and know it would only make you feel more uncomfortable in your own skin if your weight hurt your boyfriend. 
“Just drop it,” you try. 
As persistent and stubborn as Eddie is about something once it’s entered his mind, he can see your demeanor changing bit by bit, moving closer to upset. It doesn’t mean he’s going to let it go entirely, though. He’ll let you think he’s forgotten about it for now, just continuing on with the nice evening you’re having. But there’s already an idea turning the gears in the back of Eddie’s mind. 
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The next week, you waltz into the Munson’s trailer–having learned long ago that you can just let yourself in–and your brow furrows as you slip off your shoes. Eddie is standing between the couch and the television, doing arm curls with a pair of smaller but heavy-looking weights. Not once have you seen Eddie lifting weights before, so you’re confused, unsure of what’s going on. 
Eddie’s eyes glance over to you, away from the rerun of Who’s the Boss playing on the television and gives you a smile.
“Hey, baby,” he says as naturally as always. “Be done in a minute.”
You finally find your voice as you track his arms moving up and down. “What’re you doing?”
“Knitting a sweater,” he answers without missing a beat. 
“Ha ha, very funny.” You roll your eyes even though he isn’t looking your way and plop down on the couch behind him.
Eddie lets out a small, breathy laugh and turns his head to the side so you know he’s talking to you.
“What’s it look like? I’m lifting weights.”
“But why?” you ask, tucking your legs up beneath you.
When Eddie turns face forward again, you catch a glimpse of his smirk in the reflection on the TV.
“So you’ll have no more excuses about why I shouldn’t pick you up,” he says. 
Letting out a dramatic groan to rival one of Eddie’s own, you flop down on your side and bury your face into one of the couch cushions. Irritated, you pick your head up and glare at the back of your boyfriend’s head.
“This again?” you ask.
“I’m gonna sweep you off your feet,” he says as he begins his last set. “Wait and see.”
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“Jesus Christ,” Dustin whines, leaning back in his seat. He swipes at one of the D20s on the table out of frustration. “Where the hell is he? Eddie’s never been late for a campaign in his life.”
“Are you sure your boyfriend didn’t mention anything about being late?” Mike snaps at you from the opposite side of the table.
“For the third time, Michael,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, “no.”
Jeff opens his mouth to say something, but the drama room door bangs open to reveal their Dungeon Master, his soaking wet hair turning the white portion of the Hellfire shirt see-through. There’s a beat of silence as everyone takes in his appearance. Leave it to Dustin to break the seal.
“Where the hell were you?”
“Is it raining out?” Lucas asks no one in particular, eyes trailing Eddie’s weighed-down curls.
He doesn’t receive a response as Eddie saunters into the room, acting as if he didn’t just break one of his own most important rules. Your boyfriend throws a wink your way and presses a kiss to the top of your head as he passes by you to get to his throne. Once he’s plopped down in the seat and made himself comfortable, he takes in all the eyes staring at him from around the table.
“I was in the gym. Weight room, more specifically,” Eddie says, as if they should have known this all along. 
“Like…where the athletes train?” Gareth asks, nose wrinkling up in confusion. You can taste Eddie’s snarky reply in the air before he even parts his lips.
“Congratulations on knowing what the weight room is, Gareth the Great.”
When Eddie’s eyes don’t meet yours, you wonder if he’s avoiding your gaze or not. He has to know that the fact that he was lifting weights again would grate on your nerves. Either he’s oblivious–which is entirely possible–or he’s being smart and not meeting your glare. Eddie is quiet for a moment, which is so unlike him that you’re wondering if maybe he’s waiting for you to say something. If that’s what he wants he’ll be sorely disappointed though because you’re biting your tongue for now. Even though he’ll definitely hear about it later when there are no witnesses around. 
“All right,” Eddie finally says, clapping his ringed hands together. “Shall we get started?”
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Whenever you want to vent about Eddie or something he did, you never have a shortage of friends to go to. Most are glad to lend an ear and a few even look forward to hearing what crazy thing he did this time. But when it comes to how you’re currently feeling in regards to your boyfriend, none of your friends could truly understand because they’re all, well…thin. They might be sympathetic to your situation or even relate in some different way, but none of them would wholly understand because they’ve never been viewed in the same light that you are by society. It’s not their fault they don’t understand, it’s just how it is. 
Unfortunately, you’re not as good at keeping your emotions hidden as you thought you were. It’s only a few days before Nancy corners you at your locker.
“Are you okay?” she asks, narrowing her usually wide eyes at you. 
“Fine,” you say with as much forced enthusiasm as possible while you dig around the locker for your biology textbook. 
“For argument's sake, let’s say I believe you,” Nancy says. “Why have you been so quiet lately, then? You seem distracted, like your mind is somewhere else.”
“It’s stupid,” you say to her as you find the book you were searching for.
“Hey,” Nancy says, voice taking on a more serious tone, “no it’s not. Whatever is bothering you, you can tell me.”
You’ve known Nancy long enough to know she’s truly trying to help you and is determined to find out what’s wrong. You also know that if you tell her that you’re not ready to talk about it, she’ll drop it and respect your wishes. But you have been itching to talk to someone about everything that’s been going on, and the opportunity presented itself to you on a silver platter. 
“After school?” you ask softly. 
Nancy nods. “I’m putting the finishing touches on a story for the paper. I’ll be in there alone.”
When the bell rings signaling the end of school you find her right where she said she’d be. Bent over a few papers, shuffling them back and forth and inspecting them with a small furrow to her brow. As soon as she sees you, though, she moves her work to the side and gives you her undivided attention.
“What’s up?” she asks. 
Trying to buy every second you have before you open your mouth and start to explain your predicament, you make yourself comfortable on the stool across from your friend and situate your bag between your feet on the floor. There’s no more stalling, you realize, as you continue to shift in your seat though. Deep down you know Nancy will be sympathetic and would never intentionally steer you wrong, it’s just the fact that she won’t get it that’s keeping you from spilling your guts. 
“I’m not interviewing you, you know,” Nancy says, the ghost of a smile dancing on her lips. “You can start whenever.”
“Eddie keeps saying he wants to lift me up.”
The admission just tumbles from your mouth, no preamble, no build-up, just straight to the problem that’s been lying heavy on your heart. 
“Okay…” Nancy drags out the word and she leans in towards you. Clearly, she was expecting more to the story than this. 
“And I told him that he’ll hurt himself and now he’s working out and lifting all these weights to prove that he’s strong enough for it.” For someone who wasn’t sure if they wanted to talk about this to begin with, you’re now word vomiting everywhere. Between the speed of your words and the way they seem to come out before being processed in your mind, you’re strangely reminded of how it is to talk with Robin when she’s flustered over something. The thought has you biting back a smile; maybe now you’d give Robin less grief about talking so fast. 
“Why don’t you just let him try then?” Nancy asks.
An internal scream sounds in your head at her question. Of course she doesn’t understand what the big deal is. It’s not her fault, but you also know there are no words you could use to explain it to her to convey how you feel deep down about it. It’s something you either know from experience or not. 
“You’ve seen the two of us together,” you finally respond, voice measured and quiet. “He’s so slender and has some lean muscle, but not enough to lift my fat ass.”
It’s obvious from the way Nancy does her cute little pout that she doesn’t like your comment.
“You are–”
Here it comes, you think. She’s going to say how pretty I am, even though I didn’t say I was ugly–just fat. 
“–stressing yourself out by thinking about this too much. Let Eddie lift his weights. If you still don’t want him to pick you up, tell him. You know he respects your boundaries.”
It’s not what you expected her to say at all, and you admonish yourself for thinking Nancy would be anything less than logical about this. And her logic is sound. You know she’s right, but the emotional part of your brain still isn’t completely satisfied.  
On your way out of the school after talking with Nancy, you pass the weight room and hear someone inside. You peek in the small window cut into the door and spot your boyfriend’s mass of messy curls. He has a barbell over his hips, thrusting them up and down. The sight alone has your knees feeling weak. The motion of Eddie’s hips has you hypnotized for a few moments before you decide to go in.
Eddie isn’t facing the door and he’s wearing headphones, so he doesn’t hear you as you slip in and close the door behind you. Now you can hear the soft grunts that leave his lips with every thrust, and it has you biting down on your lower lip. When you take a step closer, you can hear the music Eddie’s listening to, the song pounding out past the headphones. Even though Eddie doesn’t know you’re there it’s almost as if he’s trying to seduce you. The hips, the grunts, now he’s listening to Burnin’ Up by Judas Priest? That’s the most often played song while the two of you are having sex. 
Deciding it’s fine if you’re perving a bit on your own boyfriend, you watch him while he does a few more reps. As he begins to slow down and finish up, you move to take a seat on the piece of equipment next to him. Eddie grins when he notices you sitting there and tugs the headphones down so they’re hanging around his neck.
“Hey, baby,” he says. “I’d hug you but I’m all sweaty.”
“It’s sexy.”
Eddie laughs at the blunt way you say it. 
“Really?” he asks.
You nod your head and Eddie takes it as an invitation to come over and sit next to you. He wraps you up in his sweaty arms, teasingly wiping his forehead against the shoulder of your shirt. It makes you laugh and you wrap your arms around his damp middle. The black material of his Ozzy shirt is sticking to his skin–and now yours too.
“Gonna go take a shower,” Eddie says and presses a kiss to your temple. “Then we’ll go get some food, yeah?”
“Sounds perfect.”
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The next week you’re over at Eddie’s house, on your back with Eddie on top of you as you make out. There’s a long-forgotten shitty horror movie playing in the background, but the cheesy, shrill screams of the victims don’t even register to either of you. 
Rough calloused hands slide down your shirt, moving from your breasts to the hem of your tee, where it’s riding up. Eddie’s skin on yours has you arching your back as his hands travel upwards again. It’s clear that he wants your shirt off and who are you to deny him?
“Bedroom,” you mumble as you break apart just long enough for you to yank your shirt off. Eddie takes advantage of your quick preoccupation with your clothing to scoop you up in his arms, bridal style. “Eddie!” you squeak.
He just chuckles and squeezes you tighter against his body. 
“Maybe now you’ll let me throw you around when I have to punish you for being a bad girl,” he says, a cocky smirk quirking his kiss-bruised lips. 
“A-Are you okay?” you ask, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. “You won’t offend me if you have to put me down.” You’re very aware of his lithe body and how it’s supporting your larger one. This has to be hurting him–right?
“Babe.” Eddie chuckles again and shakes his head. “I’ve been lifting weights that weigh at least double what you do. It feels like I’m holding a feather right now.”
Narrowing your eyes at him, you try to determine if he’s lying or not. But the way he holds steady, not seeming to strain or struggle with you in his arms calms your worries. Eddie heads down the hall and carries you into his room and tosses you down on his bed. You land with a bounce and a giggle as he climbs up on top of you. 
His lips attach to your neck as his fingers reach down and fiddle with the button of your jeans. Once it’s popped open and he drags the zipper down, Eddie starts to kiss his way down your body, making sure to press his lips against every part of you that he can. Your chest, your tummy, your hips. When he gets to your jeans, Eddie slides himself off the bed to kneel before you. He makes quick work of getting your pants off and lets out a sinful groan when he sees the wet patch forming on your pale green cotton panties. It encourages Eddie to move even faster as he yanks your underwear off so quickly that you blink and you miss it. 
Eddie dives right in, wasting no time to run his long, talented tongue through your folds. You grip the off-white sheets below you in your fists at his ministrations. The laugh that rumbles through Eddie at your drawn-out groan sends vibrations up your body, only adding to the pleasure. Strong hands wrap around your thighs and pull you even further down the bed so Eddie can get better access to your pussy. His tongue repeatedly flicks over your clit and your eyes practically roll back in your head. Your boyfriend knows exactly how to work you up and bring you to the brink of–
“Hey,” you pout when Eddie pulls back and sits on his heels. “Fuck, Eddie, I was close.”
“I know, angel.” His words are soft and kind despite the mischievous glint in his eye. “But there’s something I need you to do first.”
“What?”
Eddie climbs on the bed and crawls up towards his pillows. He plops flat on his back as he says, “Sit on my face.”
“Eddie,” you say with a breathless laugh. “I’ll crush you.”
“Then I go out doing what I love,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I always told you that you’d be the death of me.” Eddie looks over you with those brown doe eyes and you feel the resolve melting away in your chest. “But seriously, please come here. I already miss how you taste.”
Lifting you was one thing, but this seems like something he couldn’t prepare for by going to the gym. The sincere, pleading look in his eyes tells you that he really wants this, though.
“Are you sure?” you double-check.
“God, yes, please.”
Hesitantly, you shuffle up closer to him and lift yourself up to straddle his face. Bracing your hands on Eddie’s headboard, you still can’t bring yourself to lower your body. Just as you’re about to open your mouth and say something to Eddie, your boyfriend wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you flush down against his mouth. 
“Fuck,” you groan. You can practically feel Eddie grinning against your dripping pussy as he gets back to work. After a few moments of making sure Eddie isn’t suffocating below you, you start to relax into it and are able to enjoy the sensations of his tongue leisurely licking up and down your heat. A particularly hard lick to your hole has you letting out a gasp and clutching onto the wooden bedframe hard enough to snap it in half.
“Shit, Eddie. A-Almost there.”
He hums in acknowledgment, even though you didn’t need to tell him. Your body was something Eddie was a quick study in; it didn’t take him long to learn all the little quirks and tells your body gives him when you’re getting close to orgasm. 
“Fuck,” you moan between pants as your breaths become shallower. Sweat slicks your skin as you hurdle towards your peak, body a live wire as Eddie works your body just as flawlessly as he does his guitar. “I-I’m coming, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming.”
Eddie tightens his grip on your thighs as your hips rock against his face. His nose brushes against your clit and it shoots a spark through your body, only heightening your pleasure. 
As the high wears off, you feel boneless and collapse down on the bed next to Eddie. He huffs a breath of laughter and raises himself up on an elbow to watch you recover. Satisfied smirk on his face, Eddie wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand. He only gives you a moment longer to catch your breath before he gives you a smack on the ass.
“Hands and knees, baby,” he says. 
Energy not fully recuperated yet, you give him a nod but otherwise don’t move. Eddie’s not having that, though. A strong arm wraps around your waist and yanks you up, causing you to yelp in surprise. As you settle onto your hands and knees like you were told, you peek over your shoulder to see a cocky smirk adorning your boyfriend’s face. He ghosts a feather-light hand up your spine as he leans in to murmur in your ear.
“Told you I’d manhandle you if I needed to.”
There’s hardly enough time for your brain to process his words before he’s yanking your hips backward towards him. The sudden motion has your arms giving out and you drop face-first into his pillow, filling your senses with the citrus-scented shampoo he uses. The husky chuckle that comes from above you lets you know that this is the exact position he wanted you in any way. You let your eyes flutter closed as you revel in the sensation of him dragging his cock up and down your soaked folds. It’s meant to be teasing you–and it is–but you’d be lying if you said the motions didn’t feel amazing.
Eventually, Eddie can’t take his own teasing anymore–he’s so damn hard in his hand now. He lets his cock drag against your clit one last time before he pushes himself into you. A moan gets muffled into Eddie’s pillow as your fingers involuntarily claw at his sheets. If you were facing him, you know you’d see him smirking. The bed begins to squeak as Eddie moves his hips, his own groans tumbling out as he slides further into you with each thrust until he’s finally bottoming out.
“Fuck,” Eddie groans, head falling forward. His hands grip the soft plush skin of your hips hard enough to leave fingerprint-sized marks. You turn your head to keep from suffocating against the pillow, but you know you’d willingly starve yourself of oxygen if it meant Eddie would keep pounding into you like this. “Shit, baby. I’ll never get over how tight you are. God damn, I love your body so fucking much.”
The only response you can manage is a groan, thoughts fleeing from your head with every snap of his hips against yours. His pace begins to pick up and you know he’s getting closer to the edge. But suddenly he pulls completely out of you, leaving you achingly empty. The loss makes you whine as you look over your shoulder at your boyfriend. Words still haven’t come back into your brain yet, so you just questioningly grunt at him, which makes him laugh.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. Your eyes track him as he shuffles up the bed until he’s sitting with his back against his headboard. He pats his thigh and winks at you. “Get over here.”
He doesn’t need to ask you twice. Throwing your left leg over his lap, you whimper as you lower yourself slowly onto his angry and leaking cock. The moment you’ve seated yourself on him, he thrusts his hips up into you, causing you to gasp and clutch onto his pale, freckled shoulders to steady yourself. 
“Fuck!” you cry. “Yes, Eddie!”
The smirk that graces Eddie’s beautiful features is so self-satisfied. Normally, you’d come up with a witty quip or bratty action to wipe that look off his face, but the pleasure coursing through your veins leaves you incapable of coherent thought. 
Eddie wraps an arm around your waist and starts bucking his hips wildly up into yours. 
“Shit,” you all but scream as you drop your forehead down to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. “God, Eddie.”
“Think my lifting paid off now, baby?” Eddie asks, smugness dripping in his tone. He chuckles and presses a kiss to your collarbone as you nod and bury your face into his neck.
“Yes,” you mumble against his skin before pulling back so he can understand you. “Yes, shit, your hips are magical.”
A chuckle rumbles through Eddie’s body and he tightens his grip around your waist, holding your body flush up against his. As you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax, your fingernails dig into the delicate skin on Eddie’s back.
“You’re so fucking sexy, baby,” Eddie says. When you don’t acknowledge his statement, he tugs on your hair and forces you to look him in the eye. “Jesus Christ, I love your curves. Every single inch of your body. It’s fucking mine. So perfect, holy shit. How’d I get so lucky?”
“All yours,” you confirm, nodding as much as you can with his hand in your hair. “My body is all yours. Every curve, every i-inch. Fuck, I’m close, Eddie.”
“Me too, sweetheart,” Eddie says between labored breaths. “Come with me.”
“O-Okay,” you stutter out in a whisper.
Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure washes over you as you cling to your boyfriend. The way your walls clench around Eddie’s cock has him coming immediately after you, his hair tickling the skin of your cheek as he drops his head forward to rest against your body. 
“Baby, yes,” Eddie moans as he spills inside of you, hips rutting against yours as he fucks his spend into you. 
When he’s finished, Eddie lifts his head up before dropping it back against his headboard. A satisfied smile is on his lips as he looks at you, rosy cheeks and coated in a sheen of sweat as he tries to catch his breath. Your body collapses against his, breathing just as heavily, and Eddie wastes no time in wrapping both of his arms around you. It’s quiet as the two of you bask in the feelings, both physical and emotional. Eventually, Eddie turns his head and presses a kiss into your hair.
“I love you, baby girl.”
“I love you too, handsome.”
“So,” he starts, dotting soft kisses down the length of your neck, “you gonna let me pick you up now?”
It’s not something you even need to think about. “You can do whatever you want if you fuck me like that again.”
The laugh that Eddie lets out has you smiling against his skin. He brings his hand up and lightly trails his fingers up and down your spine. 
“Glad to hear that,” he says. “I think next I want to try lifting you over my shoulder. You know, like firemen do. How’s that sound?”
The question makes you lift your head up to look your boyfriend in the eye. 
“Only if you wear the uniform, too.”
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iwaasfairy · 7 months
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┌─ “ ! „ CHALKBOARD AND NAILS
tw. noncon, yandere, dumbification, objectification, daddy kink, some degradation, some praise, threats, brief mention of murder and blood, hair pulling, forced oral wordcount. 4.5k
a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @totalleelee ♡♡♡ here you are my loVE!!! happy late birthday to your friend as well, and I really hope you guys enjoy it! I always like getting to write new characters and Nanami was definitely a fun one. I had to make the fic longer bc I wanted moreEeeeee but yea i just really really hope you enjoy it, and thank you again a miLLIOn for commIng me iM so sO HONOUREDDD
nanami kento x fem!reader
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You should think about what you’re doing. Lying upside down off the couch with your eyes big and long, distracting lashes and your hair hanging; casting playful shadows on the floor when you move. His couch. He’d like to believe you’re doing it on purpose -hell, most people would probably be inclined to- when you’ve got that coy, little smile on your face and your shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of skin above your pants.
He would assume if you had ever dared to come onto him in any way. But you haven’t, and so he can’t, not when you remain the perfectly sweet, kind, respectful graduate they hired only a few years ago— and it makes him too aware of you.
Nanami’s not the prim and proper bootlicker Gojo jokes he looks like; so among the other sorcerers, it isn’t even too illogical that you would cling to him a little. A kouhai dumped on his doorstep when the higher-ups decided to employ them fresh out of school. If it were anyone else, he would’ve complained until the choice was overruled. But you’re not anyone else. He can’t even lie about the fact that he’s grown quite the attachment to you.
Your bubbly, engaged energy and blueberry scented shampoo and cheap coffee in styrofoam cups that you always, always forget to throw away at the end of the day. Your chattering that rings through his brain before he goes to sleep and the way you talk and talk and talk when he won’t. You’re the exact opposite of an enigma, because that would require that you left him with some mysteries, and you don’t have the ability to keep your mouth shut. He hates how easy you wind him around your little finger, and he hates that he hates it.
Nanami’s not a dependant guy- and it seems to be your goal to prove him so fucking wrong.
“Why wouldn’t that be possible? I mean, it’d be hard if suddenly a curse shows up and you’re called up in the middle of the night and have to rush to work, and our rates of serious injury are pretty high. But I think I could make it work! Y’know, communication is key and all that.” Your pretty lips shine as you ramble on. You prop your head onto one arm, and turn over so your leg is basically straddling his furniture. “Have you ever dated a non-sorcerer while you’ve been a grade one, Nanamin?”
He lets out a slow exhale, and shifts his gaze back from the lines of your throat to his book so you don’t catch him looking. “No.”
“Not once? In like twelve years?” You raise a brow like you’ve suddenly discovered he’s some ancient fossil dug up from the canal.
“I prefer not to leave my partners for weeks on end with no explanation because the sorcerer world forbids it— so no. And I didn’t graduate twelve years ago, brat.” With the spine of the book he taps your nose, before getting up from the chair to join you on the couch. The few drinks have been abandoned as you finally let the blood back out of your head and wobble like a deer, blinking too slowly. Even now, you’re pretty. Prettier than he wants you to be, taking in the soft slope of your nose and the pillowy lips and your stupid flush on your face. Brat is right.
“I think I’ll do it,” you declare after a few seconds, and rest your head back into the couch with a pout. “I get lonely. And most sorcerers have giant egos.” He’s not sure if it takes him aback -can’t place the emotion that washes over him a few inches at a time- but he finds himself watching the side of your face a little too tightly. The cogs turn in his head and send some uncomfortable cold to gather in the pit of his stomach. Your lashes flutter and some wetness lines your waterline, and he can tell that you mean it. It isn’t the alcohol, he knows you better than enough.
When you look up at him, your faces are only a few inches apart— soft breaths filling the narrow space between. Has he ever told you he loves you? He’s not a man of too many words, that’s always been more your style than his— so probably not. But he does. So much it carves a gaping hole in his chest upon impact. He doesn’t have to say anything to see the way your eyes flutter shyly with the near perfect closeness. As your silence hangs as the room disappears, his hand twitching on his thigh. Aren’t you partly his like he’s yours? That’s how it should work. It’s the only logical course of action, and so he can’t help but lean in.
You’re just too shy to say anything- right? You wouldn’t hang out with him so much if you didn’t, wouldn’t trust and touch him, or confide in him so much if you didn’t. His heart burns in his chest the closer you seem to get. But before he can finish up the gap, you giggle and back away. “Wow! Hey, we almost kissed.” Your voice is a higher pitch than normal, but still rambly. Fuck. “I didn’t expect you to be so close when I looked up,” your nose and cheeks are burning hot, “you scared me, Nanamin~”
You stand from the couch instead, and lean towards him with that little smile that drives him crazy at night. “Senpai, it’s clearly time for me to go home. I’m getting sloppy.” You are. And as much as he wants to use that as an excuse to grab you by your waist and pull you into his lap, it wouldn’t do any good. Not when you’re too busy running your mouth to understand the consequences. He loves you, but you’re one infuriating little runt. You run your hand through his hair like it’s an intrusive thought, spilling loose locks onto his forehead, and then you smack your lips. “Will you see me to the door at least?”
For not the first time, he blames your loose lips for making it so hard for him.
+
You’re entirely different outside the four walls of his apartment.
It’s a coincidence that he finds himself across the street as he spots you walking under the streetlights with a little jump in your step. You look a different sort of formidable— clinging to the arm of some plain fucking loser that is so very clearly drooling all over you. It’s almost pathetic how easily swayed the guy is, as you bat your lashes and smile at him. And somewhere in the back of his mind, it rings a little familiar, but common sense and logic get pushed down a little under the feeling of anger that he feels bubbling up in him.
Not at you— though he told you he didn’t think it a good idea, you’ve always been a bit dense. In need of protection. It isn’t an option, and Nanami’s responsible for you. He looks out for you. This fucking loser though, is oblivious about anything but the skin your dress is showing off. In the brief few moments he gets to spot you walking off towards your street, that much becomes clear. You love making it hard for him. You’re basically magnetic, dragging him along from whatever chore he was doing to follow behind patiently, getting more and more agitated.
See, Nanami has thought quite often about what he is, and isn’t. You forced him to think it over whenever he found his mind wandering back to you each time it had the chance, squeezing around his cock and whining out your dramatics into his mouth. In his imagination, he’s easy to wrap up into a neat bow. With a begrudgingly growing interest each time you landed on his couch, or trailed behind him like a puppy at work. It’s because of all that introspection that he decided he isn’t a good do-er. He does good, and he is perfectly adequate at doing it too. But he doesn’t do it for the praise of it.
Nanami isn’t a hero. He isn’t a vigilante.
He’s a simple guy with simple wants: you. So there’s only one reason that crystalizes in his mind as he finds himself walking a good distance behind this fucking loser that you’re blinking stars up at. It isn’t a noble one. Just that every fiber in him aches to grab the guy by the back of his neck and kick his head like a soccer ball. You wouldn’t like that much, but he still wants to do it.
You’re beaming and chattering along like you do at such a pace that you don’t even notice that he’s started to follow behind. Hell, you barely even acknowledge a passerby to move out of the way. You’re totally zoned in to your doe-eyed, little fantasies— even as the distance gets closer and closer, and he’s walking down the now familiar streets towards your apartment. And as much as he wants to blame you, he can't. Not really. It’s not like he didn’t know what a sweet little cheerleader you were when you were prancing around his office with the shortest skirts known to man and a coquettish blink of your long lashes. But it’s different when it’s some two-bit, middle aged non-sorcerer with a five o’clock shadow.
It’s different when it isn’t him. Even you must know that. You must feel it.
The sky’s darkening as your conversation goes from enthusiastic to clearly flirty, letting your giggle ring out down the lane— as he makes up the last bit of distance. The guy’s probably musty breath reaching you as he swings his arm over your shoulder, as he pulls you close. As he fills your head with all kinds of promises that he definitely won’t actually meet as soon as he gets your pretty hands around his cock. He knows it, and he knows that even your innocent, sweet personality would take a hit if that happened. You wouldn’t be able to perform well at work, and maybe even your relationship with Nanami would suffer if you got your heart broken.
There’s a very clear path before him that ends right where you’re walking up the steps towards your door, and those pretty lips form words he can’t focus on. He walks up to the door, and only now do you glance behind you and your pretty eyes go curiously wide at him. “Nanami?” You’re so fucking cute. But that stupid fucking arm around your shoulders is in his way. It blocks you from view, and ruins the sight. It’s a bother. There’s only the faintest hints of  jealousy and rage left in his veins - when he gives you a quick nod, then turns towards the guy who’s now got an awfully dumb expression on his face. It reminds him a little of a curse, blank and narrowed and disturbed. He feels eerily calm, really. It’s a simple problem with a simple solution, isn’t it.
“What are you doing here-” you start to say, before you stumble back.
Blood splatters all over, and with an awfully easy motion that stupid head rolls and drops to the floor. It’s quick, and there’s a few seconds where he waits for the resistance. The uncomfortable feeling of guilt. But it doesn’t come—
Until your shaky hand clutches almost painfully onto his shirt, pinching him. “H- Nanamin. What the hell do you think you’re doing? What did you-” You gasp, breaking off into a choked cry when your eyes take in the sight before you, before squeezing your eyes shut entirely and starting to shake harder. “What’s- why?! What did you do? Why did you do that?! I can’t- I can’t even- what- why?!”
You shove him aside, and his foot lands in the mess as you fumble sticking the key into the lock— too shaky to control your own extremities well. But your mouth still hasn’t stopped running. “Stay away! Go away! You’re- I- hick- I don’t wanna look!” You finally manage to get the key turned by the time the tears are making your cheeks entirely shiny, snot running and lip wobbly like a five year old— and sink down into a crouch to start sobbing it out into your arm. “You just killed a-an-” You can’t even make it halfway through without breaking out into another squeak. “F-for no reason. I invited him here- seriously, what’s wrong with you?”
Your face doesn’t come up again for breath until he grabs you by the arm to help you up, and you shove at him again, almost yelling this time. “No, no, no no no! Leave me alone!” This little scene you’re making is gonna attract attention, you know. “Leave me alone, I want to go in!” Before the situation can get out of hand, he pushes your door open enough to toss you inside, and the body after you. There’s a muffled little whimper from you when it lands with a thump on your floor. But as soon as he closes the door, the surge of adrenaline calms.
He just has to explain it to you, give him a minute.
“I don’t wanna- I don’t-”
For some reason, the entire situation winded him, and his beating heart bangs loudly in his chest. He drops his weapon aside and kicks off his shoes, and goes to you— where you’re cocooned in your own arms, knees to your chest. “Hey, it’s-”
“Leave me alone!” you squeak, knocking his hands away from you, only briefly looking up. “Go. Hck- go away!” You’re crying so much that your eyes are red and your cheeks puffy. But he still grabs you by your arms and hauls you up into his chest, ignoring the way you make yourself dead weight. Brat. He wants to say it, but he’s pretty sure you wouldn’t be too happy to hear it at this very moment. It’s not like he blames you. He’s always tried to shield you from the more gruesome parts of the occupation as much as possible. Of course you’d be upset. “Nanamin~” you whine.
“Shhh, just calm down. It’s all good now.” His heart still beats so loud. Maybe he was angrier than he first imagined. He carries you -much to your dismay, if your sniveling cries are anything to go off- out of the hall and into your bedroom. Where it smells of perfume and girly body lotion, and so overwhelmingly like you it takes him aback a little. You’re still crying, and still talking- but he does his best to drown it out in favor of explaining. See, he’s always been such a sucker for you. Swallowing down the slight rasp in his voice, he allows you to drop back into your bed, and looks down at you. You’re still pretty even with your eyes clenched closed, and crying like a baby. “There, ‘s okay.”
He runs his thumb along your eyes, then settles down next to you on the plush mattress. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Listen-”
“How can I -hck- listen?!” You’re quick to turn your face away from him, and wrap your arms around yourself a bit tighter— probably unaware of the distracting way you push up your tits that way in that little implication of a dress. Really, Nanami swallows, you can obviously do much better than that loser that’s probably staining your carpet at the entrance. Your lip wobbles again, before you suck it into your mouth. “I don’t know what- or how- but that isn’t okay, Nanamin. I just-”
So again, he tries to get your attention, this time by grabbing your arm. “Just listen. I did it for you- if this was anyone else I wouldn’t have been so pressed.” It’s true. No one is a priority like you are. “I had to.”
“What are you talking about? How- is killing someone- oh god, there’s a dead guy in my house, Nanamin! I don’t k- what am I gonna do? Why would you-”
“I’m trying to tell you something.” His voice is lower and sharper this time, and your eyes finally shoot open to look at him. But it isn't that adoring little look you normally have, and somehow that pisses him off too. You really need to have everything spelled out for you, huh. He loves you though, really, he genuinely, genuinely does. As more than just an equal— if he could, he’d give you everything. He just doesn’t know how to say it, staring back at the wobbly tears on your face. “I love you,” is what ends up coming out, and then a breath.
And he’d say more if you weren’t such a talker.
Your face goes a little distant for a few seconds, before you shake your head. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I will tell you, if you just-”
“I can’t accept that, senpai! You can’t just go around and kill-”
“I was protecting you!”
“From what?!” Before you even give him a chance, a real one, you start righting yourself on the bed and run a hand under your nose. And you stare at him with such disbelief and broken trust that it makes him feel a little dizzy. He doesn’t know exactly how he imagined himself spilling his guts, but it wasn’t like this. “You need to leave. And I need to contact someone from the higher ups to- take care of- I don’t even know,” you sob, “I don’t know how any of this goes. That’s so messed up, Kento.” That’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his first name. Scolding him for a choice he made purely for you. He did this for you. “You need to-”
He can’t let the first time end this way.
“Stop talking.”
“Stop talking?” You echo back to him, and glare, also getting up off the bed and farther away from him— and he can’t help but follow. “What did you think was gonna happen? That I wasn’t going to say anything?” As he gets up with you, you walk back a step, and your eyes flick back and forth between him and the door a few times. But he chases, and you jump in surprise when your back meets the wall, effectively trapping you between the wall and him. “I- Nanami-”
“Kento.”
You barely blink as you take a sharp intake of air, and then hold your hands up to his chest to keep some space between you two. “Look- just- we can talk about this, but I can’t just ignore that there’s a dead body in my house, Kento.” He’s really sick of you talking. You’re lucky he loves your voice so much, because if it was anyone else, he wouldn’t stand for it. Whatever you see in his expression must have you worried, because that slight defiance that remains gets awfully feeble when he reaches for you this time. “You’re scaring me. Please, just- hck- just back up. Let me process this, and then we can talk.”
“No, all your talking just gets in the way.” Your eyes go wide and a wave of heat washes over your features, making you look even more attractive. If he can’t tell you, he’ll just show you. You’ve got it all fucking wrong. What he feels for you is true love. Before you can go on another mad ramble, he grabs you and drags you back to bed, as gently as he can while having his hand screwed tight around your wrist. He wouldn’t ever actually hurt you. As you land on the bed, he holds you down— watching as you open your mouth to talk. But you can’t, because he’s already shoved two fingers between your lips and feels the way your hot, wet tongue squirms as he pushes them down your throat. “There, that’s better.”
Still you’re trying to talk, it’s almost funny. You whine around his fingers and gag when you can’t, breathing his name into an uncomfortable moan that just turns him on. You try to pull your head away, but you can’t. “You’re a lot sweeter when you’re not running your mouth sometimes, baby.” He can’t help it, it just comes out. He likes you so much, and you just look so cute gagging on his fingers and grabbing his sleeve like you’re not sure whether or not to pull or push. Tears start welling up along your waterline when he runs his fingertips over your soft, pink tongue. And his cock twitches in his pants.
That’s the good part, see. Even with all this fighting, you two still get along so well. You make him a better man when he’s around you. At least, in theory. He’s not crazy, he knows that holding you down and making you choke on his fingers isn’t really the best course of action -but you left him no choice- and he’s better off finishing what he started. “If you shut up,” he draws his fingers out of your mouth to start unzipping his pants, “I’ll let you breathe. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you won’t want to talk again.” It’s all up to you, pretty girl. Simple cause and effect. You take one sharp breath as you try to get out from under his weight, but there’s really nowhere you can go.
So you do what you do best, and whine. “Nanami~” It’s a baby-ish little whimper that makes him name sound so fucking good. But still. He grabs your face to squish your cheeks, and stares down at you with such intensity that you keep your cries in.
“It’s Kento.” His voice is a low, soft rumble. He wonder if it gives away the way his body feels right now, standing above you while his cock strains against his pants. They’re getting too tight to be comfortable. “Or daddy- you like that better? Say it.” You shake your head into his grip -but your ears start glowing another color brighter, almost like he’s caught you in a lie. Of course you do. You and him are made to be together. You let out another little squeak before he lets go of you to start undoing his pants. 
That apparently seems to be too much, because suddenly you’re trying to get up as you speak. “No, no, I’m not-” You’re trapped when he forces you back down and now yanks your head back by your hair, making you cry again. “Ow, please senpai— I like you, I really do- but I can’t- I- hang on.” The heat crawls up his neck to his ears watching your eyes go big as the belt falls and his pants go down his thighs. You really do look good on your fucking knees.
“I told you to stop yapping, didn’t I?” He asks in return, and finishes sliding his boxers down, kicking them aside. Then he pulls your face towards his cock and watches as you whine. “Open up for daddy. There’s only one thing your mouth’s good for.” You’re so easy to hold in place, and it sends unimaginable gratification through his body when your little tongue comes out for him. You’re really such a brat, making everything so fucking hard for him. 
You open your mouth enough for him to start pushing inside at just the slightest yank of your hair, making you whine and whimper as you shuffle around between his legs. Your hands come to rest on his thighs, but that doesn’t hold him from sliding the hot head of his cock as far as he can into your mouth right away. You look amazing drooling all over his cock, choking when he starts to move with the most patient moves he can manage. It’s not easy to do much of anything except rock himself on your soft tongue and feel your whining go down his shaft and balls. “There, now you’re making yourself useful. That’s what you do best, hm, fucking brat?”
“Agh, fuck- that’s- such a soft little mouth.” You make him feel heavenly, and by the way you’re shifting down there on the floor -trying and failing to get the friction you want- you’re also feeling it. He can tell by the way you blink up at him so slow, swallowing around him and letting that pretty voice out in the cutest, little moans. Just for him. Only ever for him. “You’re so lucky you’re this fucking cute,” he ends up rasping out, before letting you finally pull back to breathe when you start jittering. “Say something smart again, brat.”
“Agh, daddy,” you sob, drool spilling down your chin, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He can tell you are. Your big eyes glossy and cheeks hot, you try to get up from the floor, and he yanks you up to turn you over instead. Your little dress rides up too easily, giving the rest of the way when he shoves it up your back. It’s almost embarrassing to see how wet you are, lacy panties soaked all the way through and peeled too easily aside to reveal that needy pussy. And you don’t even deny it, just shiver when he runs his finger up and down your slicked up cunt. “Please.”
He’s such a sucker for you, fuck. It’s almost like you know it. “My little cock slut, look at that. You’re dripping down your thighs, brat.” He spits on your center once before lining up and sliding in, and watching as your little pussy stretches around his cock with some effort— as you let out a lewd, almost desperate whine. “Fuck.” And Nanami hoists himself over you to start fucking into you, hips meeting your ass as he bottoms out, as you open your legs further to let him in. Your back half hangs pathetically over the end of the bed as he fucks into your tight, hot -so fucking hot and wet and beaming- pussy and his balls clap against you. You feel so good it’s hard to hear anything over his own heartbeat hammering wildly against his ribs.
“Daddy feel good inside?”
“Mhm, agh-yea.”
You too, baby. Nothing in the world feels as good as letting your pussy swallow and suck him in deeper, like you’re trying to hold him in that impossibly hot, blissful clutch forever. He can’t even hear much of your whining and moaning and pitiful struggle, but you probably haven’t stopped. You don’t even have the energy to close your mouth, trying to push back to meet his thrusts more even as he bumps against the end of your pussy— and his one hand is squeezed around your neck. But you look pretty this way. You look useful.
“Tell me how much you like me.”“So~ much, so much, fuck. I’m gonna cum, Kento. Daddy.” Your mouth’s still running when he snakes his hand underneath you to start rubbing at your puffy clit, and feels the way his own body starts to tighten when your walls clench wildly around him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I want you to cum too, want to feel it- I wanna have you deep inside me forever, ah, ah. Oh, you feel so good, fuck.” It’s almost ironic when he thinks about it. How much he likes you running your mouth like this, begging for more. It’s poetic.
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antidesire · 1 year
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12:59 antidesire
not another vendetta/id!leon post.. wuh oh. thank you for 500 followers ♡
f!reader x dbf!leon, 18+ only. reader wears a bikini, a skirt and some makeup, alcohol consumption, reader is 21+, leon is pushing 40. size kink!!, praise, leon calls reader good girl, baby girl, little one, small, reader calls leon daddy like a couple times, reader is very eager to please, a lot of dirty talk, cunnilingus, p in v, creampie. this is purely fictional always use protection and practice safe sex. 4.5k+ of filfth, probably more rushed and messy than it should be not sure how i feel about it, i apologise.
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leon s. kennedy,
you only knew of the older man from your father, the two had met during a pub crawl one night, and your father was quite the talker, giving him the rundown on all the best liquors, telling him all kinds of crazy stories about his life (nothing compared to mr. kennedy) and all the trouble he got in to in his younger days, so the two hit it off like a house on fire and suddenly leon kennedy was a part of your father's friend group despite being younger compared to your father, he seemed to relate a lot to him (his entire tab being paid for by his new friend probably helped too).
you were used to it, how sociable your father was, he always made time to enjoy his weekends, whether it be out on the town or inside, and that day was scorching hot so he had decided a garden party was the only option, it seemed silly not to what with the pool in the back yard and a barbeque grill.
with a group message to all his and your mother's friends, the plans were set.
you wouldn't say you were being promiscuous or inappropriate- not on purpose, surely never. it just so happened that your favourite bikini was on the skimpier side, a little triangular bra and thong, and in a colour that complimented your skin strikingly well, some heart sunglasses for some contrast, cute- that's what you'd call it, cute.
did your mom's friends approve? absolutely not, whispering their outrage and shock under their breaths, sending glares over to their husbands, it did make you laugh.
your mom might've cared, and your dad as well- too bad they were already more than tipsy by the time their guests arrived.
the water felt so warm thanks to the sun beaming down on the garden, with your butt perched on the edge of the pool you dangled your legs inside the cool water as you leaned back on your palms, basking in the rays.
"leon!" you heard your father call out in excitement and your head whipped around, you'd never heard of a leon before. "it's so good to see you man, how have you been?"
leon was gorgeous, and that was to put things modestly. he didn't look as old as your other father's friends and good lord he was a hundred times sexier than any of them.
his hair was dark, not too long, but you noticed one side swept over his eye. he had partial stubble along his chin and upper lip, and his dark locks contrasted with his icy blue eyes.
suddenly you were the one ogling, sunglasses tipped down the length of your nose, determined to know more about this leon.
sloshing of the water turned your dad’s attention back to you, encouraging you over to meet his friend, “this is my daughter,” your dad told leon your name before introducing him to you.
“it’s nice to meet you leon.” you smiled, holding out your hand politely to which he shook and you could’ve sworn you saw a smile tugging at his lips.
“it’s nice to meet you too.” he nodded, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes swiftly grazed over your body before distracting himself with the bottle in his hands, “i come bearing gifts.”
you watched from afar when your mother called you into the kitchen to aid her in preparing some food that couldn’t be handled on the grill your father was cooking in, “mama, does leon have a wife?” you blurted out the question before you could even swish it around in your head a little longer.
“hmm, I don’t think so, why’s that?” she laughed, tossing some salad and dressing in a bowl.
“m’ just wondering, dad’s other friends all do.” you hummed, shrugging to make it seem less suspicious.
the food went down well, even better with the delicious cocktails you and your mom whipped together earlier, a delicious buzz whirling throughout your body that had you up and moving towards the kitchen to grab another one.
“you got a spare glass? smashed mine.” you heard a voice call out, jolting in surprise, head bumping the cabinet above you,
“shit.” you cursed under your breath, hand flying up to rub the top of your head, glancing back to see it was the older man you had your eyes on earlier.
“sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.” he laughed, footsteps coming closer, “you alright?” a cold but firm grasp was suddenly at your waist, an excuse to lean in and observe the ‘damage’.
oh god, you could smell his cologne, musky and expensive, “i’m good, you didn’t scare me- well, you did a little, but it’s fine.” wow, real smooth.
you could almost feel the vibrations in his chest when he chuckled, you had to lean back against the counter to distance the two of you, your face furrowing in confusion when he only got closer, hand reaching up above your head, “they up here?” he gestured towards the cabinet above your head.
was he toying with you right now?
“t-they’re all the way at the back, we used most of em’ already.” you mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear, “let me check.” you spoke up before twirling yourself around, your hands pushing yourself upwards to go on your tippy toes so you could reach the glass at the back.
you purposefully shoved your ass back against him, back arched to give him a nice view of the expanse of your bare back, small strings of your bikini high on your hips, you were just generous like that. you feigned innocence as you felt around for a few more seconds, “ah-ha!” you cooed, plucking the glass down and turning yourself back to face him, “here you are.” you smiled, tapping the rim of the glass against his chest as his eyes hung a little lower on your body.
“thank you, sweetheart.” his fingertips grazed yours before taking the glass from you, your eyes dashing down to his hand, noticing blood.
“you cut yourself.” you jut your bottom lip out into a pout, extending your arm to grab his wrist and pull him over to the bathroom, glass in his hand long forgotten about.
"it's just from where the glass smashed, it's not a big deal." he was trying to brush it off but you were already grabbing the first aid kit before he could finish his sentence.
"let me look at it under the light." you encouraged him closer as you put yourself up until you were sat on the sink, first aid kit on your lap.
the light from the cabinet above the sink did make it easier to see the cut, it also made it easier to notice how slender his fingers were, veins running all the way up his bulky arms, disappearing under his black compression shirt he wore, "you're not warm like that by the way?" you glanced up from his hand, referring to his shirt, "you can join me in the pool after." you cooed, voice overly sweet as you dabbed some disinfectant on his cut, grabbing a bandaid next.
leon shook his head, a small chuckle leaving his lips, "i'm not sure your parents would appreciate that." oh, were you too obvious? oops.
your eyes rolled at that, legs swaying in the air back and forth as the rip of the paper from the bandaid could be heard in the silence, your nimble fingers pushing the dressing around the cut securely before giving his hand a squeeze to gesture that you were done.
a small sigh escaped your lips as your head leaned back against the cabinet, still perched pretty on top of the sink, your thighs looked plush and soft like this and the way the glitter from your lipgloss sparkled under the light was like its own little spell, a cautious one.
but you, you threw all caution to the wind now he voiced acknowledgment about your little games, your eyes dragged shamelessly over him, twiddling the string of your bikini panties between your fingers, "d'you not wanna touch me?" you spoke quietly.
you heard leon exhale before you felt his fingertips at your lower thighs, pushing them open so he could step closer, “you’re not playing fair.” his head tilted, fingers pinching at the soft flesh of your thighs, “you do this with all your dad’s friends, huh?”
you hummed out, your hand placing on top of his and pushing it even higher up your thigh, “i’m not normally like this, you’re special.” you cooed out, leaning in towards his ears, “i pinky promise.”
you yelped when his fingers pulled the elastic of your panties back until it snapped back against your skin, “aah.” you shivered, legs raising to clench either side of his hips.
"i won't tell anyone." you whined, rubbing your thighs against him to distract the lingering stinging sensation.
the way you sweetened your voice and fluttered your eyelashes had him reeling closer, so close you could feel his hot breath at your neck, smell the scent of sweat on him from the hot scorching day.
your fingers trailed upwards, pushing at his shirt until he grasped firmly at your wrists, shoving them out of the way, “if i got you here, i wanna do things my way.” he spoke directly, eyebrow raised as he looked for what seemed like your confirmation, to which you gave him a prompt nod, perhaps a little eagerly.
“good girl.” two simple words and your stomach was doing somersaults, all the blood rushing straight to your cheeks. it sounded like pure honey falling from his lips, sweeter than the cocktails you had previously enjoyed.
leon didn’t miss the way the little pet name clearly had you dazed either, he was quite attentive, fingers grazing back and forth over the goosebumps on your thigh whilst the other was placed at your chin, thumb rubbing along your jaw, "you're such a pretty little thing, your old man told me he had a beautiful, smart daughter at home.. i should've believed him more, i shouldn't have come." he snickered, shaking his head.
"it's too late for that now." you huffed, knocking your head to his and catching his lips until they meshed with yours, feeling his stubble graze your skin, igniting pulses of desire straight between your legs.
he didn't bite, you only felt him relax a little into the kiss before pushing himself away with an expression you couldn't read on his face, "you're making it hard to think straight."
you laughed at that, "don't think at all, that's what i like to do." you winked, "just do what feels good." you giggled and leon could feel his heart skip a beat, you were so damn cute.
"fuck.." he threw his head back, chuckling at the situation he found himself in. when his attention was back on you he noticed your fingers between your legs, rubbing your fingers against your clothed pussy.
"mh-mh," he shook his head, swatting away your hand, "let me take care of you, sweetheart." he breathed out, fingers tucking under your panties, dragging them all the way down before flinging them somewhere on the floor, long forgotten about along with his sense of morals.
you whimpered at the feeling of cold porcelain on your bare skin, feeling your pussy brush against it when he pushed your thighs open, "s-shit.." you whimpered.
you almost forgot to keep breathing when you watched him kneel down, taking a position in between your legs, perching them both over his shoulders, fingertips squeezing and rubbing the outside of your thighs, "you don't mind if i'm a little selfish and have a taste first, yeah baby?" he blinked up at you and if the feeling of your thighs already squeezing around his head wasn't enough, maybe the audible moan followed up by a mantra of "yes, yes, yes" was enough.
"you're so cute, you get excited about the littlest things." he observed, leaning in to press wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, stubble scraping along your skin.
"n-no i don't." you tried to deny out of embarrassment, only getting a chuckle of disbelief in response, knowing your body's reactions spoke for itself.
he breathed you in, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue dashed out to lick upwards to your clit, the tip of his tongue circling over the sensitive little nub which had your finger flying in his hair, "ohh, my god.." you mewled, hips already pushing up towards his face for more which he was happy to oblige.
flattening his tongue allowed you to feel him everywhere, every little inch of your cunt being showered with attention, your legs kicking against his upper back until he pulled back, allowing you a second to breathe though he didn't waste it, spitting on your clit and letting the saliva run down your pussy just so he could tongue fuck it inside you.
he had a firm grasp on your thighs now, tongue pressing past your puffy lips and inside you, pushing his tongue further and further, breathing you in until the tip of his nose pushed deliciously against your clit, grinding against it for further friction, "pleasuhh-nghnn," you brokenly moaned, legs trembling either side of him, but he kept going and it was almost embarrassing how sloppy he sounded, eating you out like he was starved, only pulling back when he wanted to pay attention to your poor puffy clit, tongue flicking and prodding before his lips sealed around it, sucking the sensitive little nub into his mouth and groaning which added a mouth-watering vibration, "daddy, please." you gasped out.
you clearly spoke too soon when a sudden knock of someone's fist against the wooden door pulled you out of your bliss.
you could've cried when he pulled away to stand up, pleasure fizzling out into nothing, legs squeezing together to maintain the warmth of where he had been perched, "don't.." you pleaded, grabbing a hold of his arms and pushing him towards you, bare soaked pussy grinding against the belt he had on around his waist.
"leon, you in here?" your father's voice spoke up again, the door handle rattling, leon gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before he plucked your bikini panties off the ground, stuffing them in his pocket and opening the door just wide enough to slip out.
being the gentleman he is, he wiped the residue of glistening saliva and cum from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before speaking up with an excuse, "sorry, was just cooling down."
you heard your father announce needing help with something that happened in the front yard.
both their footsteps wandered away and you cursed aloud, jumping off the sink and stomping your feet on the floor, why now?!
your head peaked out of the bathroom ever so slightly until you knew the coast was clear, scurrying to your bedroom to pick up your skirt, tugging it up until you were decent enough.
with quick steps you rushed down the stairs only to see everyone in the front yard, “what happened?” you asked your mom.
“steve got a little too drunk and saw the keys still in leon’s bike.. he crashed it into the bush.” she pointed to the damage and your eyes widened, it wasn’t like it was irreversible damage but by the way leon was tugging it out of the branches and accessing things, it didn’t look good either.
“oops..” you whispered under your breath, noticing the panicked man profusely apologising and promising to pay for any damages.
leon didn’t look too concerned though- with all things considered, only brushing the man off and mumbling about how he’ll fix it himself, that no one else should be touching it anymore, as he perches it up, stuffing the keys in his back pocket- alongside your panties.
“i’m sorry man, you always have a place to crash here or we can get you a cab back home, come back for it when you can, don’t stress yourself any further.” your dad tried to fix the situation, patting leon on the back as his other friend looked like a kicked dog, wife in his ear scolding him.
“think i’ll have to crash here, i’ll bring a friend over to help me take it back tomorrow, would rather not let her outta my sight anymore.” he forced out a chuckle.
the night drew in much quicker what with your father’s friends' antics, despite leon trying to play it cool and telling them it was no big deal, clearly, there was some tension which had everyone saying their goodbyes as the sun set and the night grew on.
“darling, can you go grab leon some fresh sheets and pillows for the night?” you heard your dad call out, turning on your feet before leon could even protest.
you hopped up the stairs and towards your room, plucking out your clean strawberry sheets with a matching plush pillow for the older man, happily bringing it down and presenting them to him, “sorry if they’re not your style.” you cooed, eyelashes fluttering at him once again.
“they’re just what i like, don’t worry.” he played along before, two-finger saluting both of your parents goodnight with a thank you as they declared they were going to bed, clearly the alcohol and mood change helping their swift decision to head to bed
“is everything okay?” you followed closely behind him like a puppy dog, bumping into his back when he halted his steps as he reached the living room, throwing the bed sheets on the couch.
“it happened, no point still being angry about it, i can fix it anyway.” he told you, glancing behind his shoulder before turning to face you, arms crossing over his chest as though he was expecting something from you.
“what?” you pouted, looking up at him, doe eyes and puffed out cheeks.
“you can’t leave me alone even after almost getting caught?” his head tilted and suddenly you felt a lot smaller underneath him.
you didn’t know how to respond, part of you was humiliated, the other wanting to bite back, “i was worried!” you whined, fist coming up to hit his chest.
leon laughed, pushing his hair out of his face and walking into you until your knees buckled and you fell back against the couch, “you’re so cute.” you didn’t have time to think, already feeling his thumb push past your lips and settle on your tongue.
“such a pretty little thing.” he sighed out, eyebrows furrowed as he admired every little detail on your face, eyes grazing over your features.
“you want me so bad don’t you sweetheart?” his voice hummed out sweetly, forcing you to nod your head, though you didn’t need to be, willing to do anything he asked of you, waiting at his beckon and call.
“sweet thing.” leon pulled his hand away, grasping the end of his shirt and pulling it over his head, your eyes wasting no time taking in everything you could, the way his muscles were defined, how a light sheen of sweat was sticky on top of his skin and how the trail of dark curly hair lead from his bellybutton down into the waistband of his boxers.
“please..” you whined out, hand going up to squeeze his arm, pulling it until he was touching your neck, dragging it towards your chest.
his eyes lazily followed your movements, fingers tugging under the straps of your bikini bra until the skimpy fabric fell into your lap, “want my skirt off next daddy?” you asked him, head tilted up as your fingers already went towards the zip.
he shook his head, tongue darting out to lick over his bottom lip, admiring your pretty tits and the peek of your thighs under your skirt puddling over your lap, “no no, keep it on, it’s cute.”
his pants came off next, your eyes watching him cup his erection through his boxers, stroking himself on top of the fabric, "lemme help." you shifted closer, tongue licking the outline of him, the texture of the cotton fabric grazing against your tastebuds, licking a trail upwards to the tip of his dick pushing against the fabric.
you let leon push down his boxers, his hard cock slapping back against his chest, standing tall with the tip the prettiest red you had ever seen, glistening with a bead of his pearly precum.
you giggled, leaning in to lick from his balls, upwards his length, tongue feeling the veins running up the underside of him before the muscle reached his tip, kitten licking up the sticky cum whilst his hand rested at the back of your head. pushing you further against him, his other hand gripped at the base of his cock, slapping the tip of himself on your tongue and watching you go cross-eyed.
you let him guide you until the tip of him was pushed past your swollen lips, "mmh, that's it sexy." he groaned out, "you're so sweet, baby, i'd love to have you choking on this cock one day." he chuckled out, feeling you push yourself further down, as though you were proving yourself, hearing your pathetic little sputtering and gagging already.
"be careful little one, s'okay." he stroked the top of your head and you let your throat relax, drool pushing past the corner of your lips and tears stinging at your eyes, "you don't have to take it all, you're only a small thing."
his words were making your fingers curl into his hips, nails dragging down his skin hard enough to decorate him with red marks, you so badly wanted to keep going but you were far too excited, you had lost yourself already trying to impress him, failing but he found it cute, he found everything about you so fucking cute.
"shh, shh.." he hushed you when you pulled your mouth away to speak, thumb flicking away some stray tears that landed on your cheeks, "don't worry about it sweetheart, you make me feel good just sitting there looking so pretty."
you could feel your heart flutter out of your chest, swallowing down any humiliation and need to apologise for the sad attempt of pleasing him with your mouth, you couldn't help it, your head was a little foggy as soon as he started speaking.
you watched as he next lifted his hand up, finger twirling in the air, indicating that he wanted you to turn around, "all fours for me." he helped you maneuver into a comfortable position on the couch, your back arched, head stuffed into the strawberry printed cotton sheets and your legs spread to accommodate leon behind you.
"you have the prettiest little pussy i've ever seen, y'know that?" he uttered behind you, hand squeezing your ass, spreading you open as he pushed himself flush against you, feeling the way your pussy pulse around nothing whilst he teasingly dragged himself back and forth your slippery folds.
"n-need it, need it so bad.." you mewled out, wiggling your ass a little to try and find some friction, your skirt shifting up higher on your waist. you lurched forward suddenly when he pushed his cock inside you without warning, your squeal muffled by the sheets.
"oh.. shit, fuckkkk.." he dragged out his words as he felt your pussy pulsate and contract around him, "holy fuck, you're so- mhfm," he had to cut himself off to take a second, "so fucking tight." he exhaled, hand placing at your lower back where your skirt was, grabbing a fistful of the fabric to help you push back and forth on his cock.
"you gotta be quiet yeah? don't wanna wake your parents up.." he chuckled, hips reeling back before pushing into you again, "imagine the look on your old man's face, finding his sweet daughter fucked stupid by the man he invited into his home." he grunted, pulling you flush against him with the help of his grasp on your skirt.
"poor thing, you can't help it can you baby? you wanted this dick so bad, i don't blame you sweetheart, i really don't." he cooed mockingly as his pace became more consistently deeper and more violent.
drool was pooling on your freshly washed sheets, countless sobs of pleasure and chants of leon's name deafened thanks to your head being stuffed into the couch. you couldn't care about anything he was insinuating, if this was bad then why did it feel sooo good.
you felt a stretch in your shoulder when he grabbed your arm behind your back, pulling it towards him, "that's it, pussy feels so damn good." he groaned much louder than he should've considering what he scolded you before just moments before.
"feels s'good!" you sobbed out. you could feel his hips slapping against your thighs and your ass, you could hear it every time he drilled his fat cock into you, incoherent babbling against the sheets and fat tears rolling down your cheeks, growing closer and closer each time he shoved himself down your dripping cunt.
"right there? yeah, i know you like that dick, can feel you fucking squeezing me back in every time i'm not deep in your guts." he laughed out euphorically, feeling as though you were driving him crazy, he'd never been this dumbfounded over pussy before.
"in—" you squealed out, legs trembling, "inside! o-oh my fughnnn, cum inside!" you blubbered out desperately, fingers clawing at the sheets underneath you, no regard for your volume, far too gone.
your breath was heaving and you couldn't stop the constant squeals of joy and tears flowing as your body shivered with pure bliss, leon noticed this and didn't let up on his pace, hips jackhammering into you erratically and if he didn't have a grip on your skirt and your arm you would've been flung to the other side of the couch, "that's it baby girl, cum on my cock, you're doing so well, m'so proud." he praised.
your stomach clenched and spasmed as your release washed over your entire body, muscles trembling and jolting, voice breathless and hoarse whilst leon fucked your sticky release back into you, desperate to chase his own high, holding you steady so you wouldn't fall limply against the couch.
"ah!" leon grunted, soppy wet sounds of your pussy bouncing off of the walls as he continuously pounded into your abused pussy, "i'm cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he gritted his teeth, pushing his hips flush against you as he whispered out breathlessly, "take it, take it baby." warm hot ropes of his cum spurting out and filling up your pussy.
you were completely spent but something about the sensation had you feeling so warm, so full it made your toes curl and you regained enough energy to push back against him, not wanting to lose even a drop of it.
you both spent more than a few minutes like this, basking in each other's warmth and closeness until you were collapsing from exhaustion, whimpering at the empty, sticky feeling between your legs.
leon leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your back and shoulders, rubbing and squeezing your waist to relieve any tension, "let me clean you up." was the last thing you heard him say, your eyes growing heavier and heavier.
leon didn't mind, he cleaned you up well, lifted you up, and quietly headed to your bedroom, tucking you into bed after ridding you of your skirt which he ripped, so you could enjoy your peaceful slumber for the night as he slipped away back downstairs to remove any evidence of what happened before the sun would come up and he would have to face your father once again.
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rvfecamerons · 1 month
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》 THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS — rafe cameron x reader
word count — 4.5k+
warnings — MDNI; dark!rafe, NONCON, abusive relationship, domestic violence + mentions of, mentions of attempted murder, swearing, gaslighting/manipulation, ngl it’s dark and sad :( lmk if i’m missing anything!!
summary — valentine’s day goes surprisingly well with rafe, but at what cost?
a/n — happy valentine’s day lovelies 💕💕 enjoy rafe ruining our day bc it’s all i’ve been able to think about!!! <3 also i’m gonna keep the regular font for the first time (i think) on a full length fic so lmk if u absolutely hate it or whatever 😫
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You could vaguely remember a time when you used to genuinely look forward to Valentine’s Day, but that wasn’t the case anymore; hadn’t been for awhile. It just seemed like a day where the normal, romantic couples rubbed their healthy, committed relationships in your bruised and battered face.
Seeing girls gush over their boyfriends on Instagram; seeing the extravagant ways their men would go all out for them without even being asked or prompted, only made you realize how far gone your own relationship had become.
Rafe would berate you, hit you, hurt you physically; yet everytime he did something wrong, you were somehow the one who ended up apologizing to and comforting him, begging him to stay. Empty promises of straightening up his act and treating you better kept you hopeful, stringing you along; but Rafe went back on them every single time. The fact that you still longed for Rafe when he was away, still wanted nothing more than to be under him and to gain his approval when he was mad at you for something, made you feel so…worthless. You hated the lack of respect you had for yourself to let the cycle continue, which was all it ever did.
Rafe’s violent tendencies had only been on an upward trend recently, and while most of the threats he spoke of were just talk, you started seriously fearing for your life the last time he lashed out on you physically.
You tried not to think about it, but it was hard not to feel Rafe’s hands still wrapped around your throat when you tried to take a breath. It was even harder not to see his facial features, contorted into that terrifying look you’d never seen before, each time you closed your eyes. Rafe choked you, to the point where you almost blacked out, during a blackout rage of his own.
It was something he’d never done before, and it rendered you too dazed and weak to fight back in the moment. That’s when Rafe started kicking at your ribs and back repeatedly; screaming insults and profanities and threats against your life, all while you laid curled into a ball on the floor.
You slept with one eye open that night, for the hour or so of sleep you actually managed to get. You were up writhing in pain for the most part, then had to spend the entire day recovering in your bed the next morning, and the subsequent days that followed.
It gave you a lot of time to truly assess the severity of the situation you were in.
You used to wonder why people stayed with abusive partners, until Rafe came along. The teather he kept around you was wound so many times around his wrist, you hardly had any freedoms of your own. Your brain knew he was no good for you, but your heart continuously tried to convince you there was reason to stay; that you could eventually pull the same loving, tender side from Rafe that you knew when you first started dating.
But he continued to prove time and time again just how untrue your heart’s claims could be.
The truth was, you did want to leave. But Rafe made your exit so small, you could hardly even find it.
A week had passed since that violent altercation, yet it was still fresh in your mind. Thankfully, you’d healed up enough just in time for Valentine’s Day, thanks in part to Rafe being uncharacteristically kind and attentive. He’d been close to your side ever since the night you were working to suppress from your memory, tending to anything you needed - finding the best pain medicines, fetching whatever food you wanted, sitting with you, talking and having real conversations with you - all things that would be expected of a normal boyfriend, which Rafe Cameron was anything but…
Or so you thought.
For the past week, Rafe had been reminding you a lot of the Rafe you met, the one you fell in love with in the first place. That Rafe would’ve never done anything to hurt you.
As you sat on the mend from the new version you’d come to know, you started to think there might actually be a chance to keep this Rafe around; especially with the way he’d been talking lately.
He’d apologized for his actions that night, an actual, sincere apology; spewing on about how he knew things hadn’t been good between the two of you for some time, but he wanted to be better, and he would make everything up to you today.
Rafe started the day out sweeter than he’d ever been towards you in a long, long time.
This change in demeanor continued throughout the whole holiday, Rafe showering you in kisses and small gifts, which he told you would all lead up to your big gift at the dinner he planned to treat you to tonight.
Along with the sweet gestures came a series of even sweeter words, ones that meant more to you than any monetary or tangible gift. Rafe promised to put a better foot forward in your relationship.
The fact that he recognized his wrongdoings only planted more seeds of hope within you, that he really did have plans to change. It comforted you in a way, the fact that Rafe was willing to admit the harrowing truth out loud.
…Which is why you felt so terribly conflicted.
You hadn’t spoken a word to anyone - not that there was really anyone to speak to, since your boyfriend had already successfully isolated you from your friends and most of your family quite some time ago - but your mind had started venturing off to thoughts of a possible life without Rafe.
Despite the 180 in his demeanor, you couldn’t forget the way it felt to be within inches of losing your life, especially at the cruel hands of someone you had nothing but love for.
It was hard to fathom, and even harder to picture a version of you that wasn’t a subsequent extention of the oldest Cameron.
Especially on one of his good days like today, which were typically few and far between. 
He’d been the perfect textbook boyfriend since the sun rose, all you could ever ask for… all you’d been asking for. At some point though, you became hyperaware that this could potentially be your last Valentine’s Day with Rafe.
You wanted better for yourself; you didn’t want to live in fear for your life, and you knew you’d never be able to shake the worry that Rafe might do something like that again.
…But he was catering to your every liking so well, and the dinner he reserved for the two of you only made you feel even more conflicted.
It was straight out of your dreams from start to finish, and Rafe’s big gift to you was a complete 6 piece jewelry collection, real gold, the most expensive money could buy. It hit you even harder, because encapsulated in the necklace was the very first picture the two of you had ever taken together. It brought tears to your eyes right there at the dinner table, and Rafe held your hand across the wooden surface as you admired the gift. Again, it gave you hope that Rafe really did want to change.
And that’s what he wanted you to think.
He’d been playing his cards right, that’s for sure.
While you took everything as an apology for that night, and for his overall abusive behavior towards you, in Rafe’s eyes, it’s Valentine’s Day. It’s his job to do the corny, romantic, if not insincere gestures.
Of course he felt bad after seeing how long you were forced to recover in bed after he lashed out on you, and he surely gave you plenty of time and help for your recovery.
But all he could focus on today, all he could seem to think about was how you were planning on thanking him at the end of the night.
That was the girlfriend’s job on Valentine’s Day, he decided.
Rafe had no doubts in his mind that you would try to come onto him once he got you home, too enamored with your gifts and impressed with your boyfriend’s efforts not to.
So when the two of you got home and got settled for the night, changing into your pajamas and crawling into bed, and you laid next to him and started kissing him, Rafe got excited. He was more than ready to let you take the reigns for once, to make him feel good after he made you feel so good all day.
…So imagine his complete and utter surprise when you pulled away from his lips and he thought for sure you were repositioning yourself to straddle him…only for you to smile and bid him a sincere ‘goodnight’, voicing your love for him before rolling over, and facing the other way.
Almost like you were…going to sleep.
Were you seriously going to just go to sleep and let him stay up with his erection after the night he just treated you to? Let all of his hard work just go to waste?
You were, he realized when you settled into the mattress further, letting out a long sigh and curling into the blanket.
…But you didn’t feel the other side of the bed move at all, and that was your first sign that something was wrong.
The scoff that rang out behind you was your second sign, followed by Rafe’s snarky voice.
“…Seriously? That’s it?”
You tensed up, already hearing the side of your boyfriend you dreaded coming through his tone…and you knew immediately what he was getting at.
Rafe waited for your reaction, and a sarcastic laugh followed seconds later when you didn’t give him one.
Maybe if you just pretended to fall asleep, he would leave you alone…
You couldn’t see it, but Rafe’s eyes never left you from the moment you turned over.
He shook his head; he was already hard, so Rafe was even more pissed, and his voice was laced with disappointment as he muttered, “Unbelievable.”
His hard gaze was waiting for you when you did finally turn back to face him, a scowl fixed his direction as you narrowed your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you started sarcastically, propping yourself up on your elbows.
“Do I need to remind you what that dinner was even for?”
Rafe waved you off mid-sentence, settling down into the bed and starting to pull the covers up when you sat up and grabbed them, yanking the material from his grip.
Rafe rolled his eyes and ran his hands over his face a couple of times, “you’re still on that?”
He scoffed, sitting up now too and throwing the covers back even further before standing from the bed as he let out a sarcastic laugh.
“God, are you fucking stupid?” He questioned, turning back around to face you with a hand on his hip. “That dinner was not an apology.”
You could only stare at your boyfriend in disbelief.
“You just gonna take every good thing I do for you as some sort of-of admission of guilt?” Again, he laughed. It had such a bitter ring to it, you physically flinched.
“That was me doing the shit a boyfriend is supposed to do for his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day. Sue me I guess, for expecting you to fulfill some of your girlfriend duties for once.”
That comment got you going.
If anyone had been a dutiful partner throughout the entirety of the relationship, it was without a doubt not Rafe. You stayed by his side, aiding and abetting in all of his crimes against you from the start, never breathing a word to anyone else about the trials he put you through.
You sprang to your feet too, both of you now standing on opposite sides of the bed.
You waved an accusatory finger Rafe’s direction as the two of you began going at it, screaming over each other. Neither of you really gave much thought to what the other person was saying, only focused on getting your own points across.
When Rafe made another comment about today being nothing but a mere routine for him and his girlfriend, you could no longer put a filter on your feelings.
“Well maybe I don’t wanna be your girlfriend anymore!”
You blurted out the thought before you really had time to mull it over. Rafe tended to pull the impulsive side out of you, especially during arguments.
The admission had the both of you falling incredibly quiet, so much so, you could surely hear a pin drop.
And honestly, the silence elicited more fear within you than the screaming match did. It was easy to tell what Rafe was feeling when he was making it known verbally with a raised voice, but the man was almost impossible to read when he fell silent.
Rafe’s icy blue gaze was unmoving as he stared at you, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him either. You felt like it would be the least smart thing to do, and studying Rafe’s face, he almost seemed to be taken aback by such a confession.
Was it really that shocking though, especially given the fact that not even a day ago he’d admitted things hadn’t been going well between the two of you lately?
The warning signs of his anger began to show, and the nervous shuffling of your feet on the carpet was the next sound to fill the air.
Rafe’s muscles flexed in the confines of his shirt as his hands balled into fists at his sides; his chest began to rise and fall at a gradually quicker pace now.
When his head tilted to the side, you swallowed hard.
“…The fuck did you just say?”
The harsh bite behind his tone made you flinch. Something was instantly screaming at you to create more space between the two of you; an inner voice you’d grown accustomed to hearing from throughout your turmultuous relationship with Rafe. Instinctively, you found yourself taking a cautious step backwards.
It was immediately matched by an even longer stride forward on Rafe’s part.
Another step was only followed by the same outcome. This repeated over a series of seconds until you finally felt your back brush against the wall; Rafe having effectively cornered you there.
Though it was a compromising position you’d found yourself in time and time again with Rafe, your body’s response to him practically corralling you into a confined space never got any better. Your blood always felt hot, heating your skin when Rafe got this close to you in one of his moods. Your mouth always went dry, your head always began to reel with things you could say or do to try to get him to ease off of you, and nine times out of ten, it was to no avail.
Fight or flight mode had kicked in, yet you couldn’t will your feet to move as Rafe glared down his nose at you, nostrils flaring with each breath he took. Part of you tried to tell yourself that he wouldn’t hurt you again, not after the week you’d shared together.
But the second Rafe drew his hand back, you squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your teeth together, bracing for the impact. It followed swiftly, the back of Rafe’s strong hand colliding with the side of your face with such force, you felt like all the wind had been knocked out of you.
Your head whipped to the side, and bringing your hand to your cheek’s aid only seemed to intensify the stinging sensation blooming there. Red welts were sure to follow suit. You stayed cowered down in front of Rafe, body turned to the side as you felt hot tears surface and spill over.
When the ringing in your ears began to settle, Rafe’s breathing could be heard again, heavier now than it had been before.
Only a few moments were offered to recollect your composure before a set of rough fingers curled in around one of your wrists, snatching it and yanking you upright.
“Care to repeat that?” The snarkiness behind his words only disappointed you more, on today of all days.
Your tearful gaze was greeted by a much harder, more serious one when you craned your neck up.
You were in disbelief as you stared up at your boyfriend, and eventually, you shook your head.
“You know, I can’t believe, that for a second,” your voice was weak, words choppy as you struggled to speak over the painful lump in your throat. Rafe’s grip on your wrist seemed to tighten in warning, but you paid it no mind as you continued.
“…for one second I thought, maybe things could be like they used to be for us…”
More tears fell, but you tried your best to stand your ground.
“But I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Rafe’s entire demeanor switched instantly. 
You saw his jaw tick once, twice, three times before he suddenly snatched your hair in an unforgiving grip, and you cried out as you were dragged backwards, legs tangling and feet tripping over each other. You hardly had time to register what was happening before Rafe roughly slung you around onto the bed. He was so careless with his actions, overestimating his strength and slinging you so hard that your head ended up hitting the headboard.
You let out a scream upon impact, but your pain was only met with a dark laugh from Rafe; though you struggled to pinpoint what exactly could be humorous about this whole situation. You supposed the only joke was you thinking your boyfriend could actually redeem himself; and thinking all of the things he said and did for you in the past week were actually genuine.
When the haughty laughter finally settled, you were trying to inch yourself backwards on the bed by your elbows, but Rafe was quick to grab your ankles and pull you back down, forcing you to lay in front of him as he stood at the foot of the bed.
He didn’t look like the same person now that you’d spend such a rare good day with, but instead the one you’d seen a week ago; the one you saw every time Rafe put his hands on you, or forced himself on you.
You watched his large hands go for his belt, and your protests were immediate.
“No,” you choked out, shaking your head through your tears and attempting to draw your legs up away from him again, “no, please-,”
You didn’t even see his hand leave his waistline, it was just suddenly rearing back again, and you were cut off by another stinging slap to the face.
“Shut up,” Rafe spat, pulling at your legs and straightening them back out again, “and stop fucking moving.”
You fought hard against him even as your head spun; pushing at his hard chest each time he tried to lean down over you; flailing your legs around, hoping to get a knee inbetween his own if you were lucky.
But your luck ran out when you crossed paths with Rafe Cameron in the first place. He easily overpowered you, eventually wedging his way inbetween your legs as they dangled off the edge of the bed. This new position kept you from being able to use your legs to defend yourself, and your arms were next. Rafe was able to pin both of the limbs above your head with just a single hand around your wrists, the other working to free his erection from his pants.
You heard the sound of his belt buckle unfastening, heard the expensive khaki fabric fall and pool at his ankles, yet your brain was in denial that was this even happening. Today had taken such a horrible turn, a total contrast to the tune your boyfriend had played earlier. 
But Rafe had planned on this from the start; the only difference was, he had to work a little harder to make it happen now.
Once his own pants were taken care of, the only thing separating Rafe from having his way with you was your silk pajama shorts. He worked on those next, grip only tightening on your wrists when you stirred around as he began pawing at the thin material. You were unable to close your legs in the position you were in, so Rafe had to physically rip the shorts from your body.
Your words and pleads weren’t enough to deter him, tears weren’t enough either, so you resigned to admitting defeat, trying to relax your muscles now in preparation for what Rafe made clear was coming.
He must’ve felt your muscles untense, breathing out a low, “mhmm, there you go. Relax. It’s gonna happen either way, sweetheart.”
The pet name made you cringe, especially given the circumstances.
He let out a scoff as he rubbed his leaking tip against your entrance, lubricating your otherwise dry folds.
“Talkin’ about, you don’t know who I am anymore,” Rafe muttered more so to himself, almost so low that you couldn’t even hear it over your own whimpers and cries.
He was louder when he spoke again though, “You wanna see who I am?”
The skin of your wrists stung, now red  and twisted as Rafe’s fingers curled impossibly tighter around them. When you only cried out in response, he taunted, “huh?”
His tip was suddenly inside of you, and the stretch from that alone had you wincing.
“…This is who I am baby.”
That was all Rafe said before he thrusted into you, completely filling you to the brim on the very first go.
It was only once he was inside of you that he finally let go of your wrists, but you were now too focused on the searing pain between your legs to try to fight back. Your arms curled in slowly, and Rafe repositioned himself, planting a knee on either side of the mattress to get a better angle. When he found it, he ran with it, pounding into you mercilessly.
Each time you tried to close your eyes or turn your head, Rafe was there; a hand on your jaw squeezing tight enough to bruise, serving to keep your eyes on him.
You couldn’t bring yourself to respond emotionally, but your body reacted to his unwanted touch. You felt betrayed by your own self when you felt your walls grow slicker, allowing Rafe to turn up the intensity.
A particularly harsh thrust had you letting out a scream that lacked any real sustanence. Rafe’s hand slapped over your mouth anyway, and he couldn’t help but stiffle a laugh as the action got him thinking.
“You know…” His own voice was strained, speaking through panted breaths as he continued rutting into you. One hand kept your hip pinned to the bed while the other dropped from your jaw, down your throat.
“You coulda had a nice dinner…woulda had you screaming; made you come so many times. Woulda been the best sleep of your life.”
You brought your own hands to his arm, nails digging into the skin as his hand clamped further around your throat, now starting to restrict your airways.
He leaned down, his body weight serving to pin you even further into the mattress as his face got dangerously close to your own. His lips brushed against yours, almost in a teasing manner, like he wanted to kiss you but wouldn’t. His eyes were almost…lustful as they bored into you, until suddenly, that gleam was lost, and Rafe’s face dropped.
“But now I don’t give a fuck if you come or not.”
He trailed his lips around to the side of your face, nibbling at the flesh of your lobe before seething directly in your ear, “…but don’t worry baby, m’gonna make you scream no matter what.”
With that, Rafe straightened himself back out and used his hold on you to fuck you deeper into the mattress, the tip of his cock hitting places inside of you that you were sure had never been explored before. The pain was all too much to bare, but your clear discomfort and suffering didn’t amuse him. If anything, it only egged him on even more.
His eyes all but rolled back in his head as the high he was chasing began to feel more and more tanglible. The tenseness of your muscles had you involuntarily squeezing the life out of his own muscle, a feeling so euphoric for Rafe. It paired with the warm slickness you’d produced, both adding to his arousal and making his assault much easier.
His climax was approaching fast now, and Rafe moved a hand from your hip to your stomach, pressing down and revelling in the way his tip could be felt prodding at his palm. His other hand tightened around your throat, no mind paid to the strain already evident on your face. Stars had just started to overtake your vision when a series of grunts and groans, whimpers even filled the air. Rafe spilled his seed inside of you, emptying load after load and adding to the stickiness of your tight walls. He admired the warmness of your cunt, keeping his cock lodged inside even after he finished. Rafe worked to catch his breath as he relinquished his grip on your throat, using the hand to prop himself up and eventually unsheathing himself once he felt satisfied.
As his hips retreated and his cock was pulled from your folds, Rafe mumbled out a quick, “happy fucking Valentine’s Day.”
The sudden emptiness between your legs was uncomfortable, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness you felt in your heart. 
You felt absolutely defeated as your mind slowly unfogged, and the severity of the situation began to wash over you. The whole time you thought your boyfriend was working to redeem himself, he was actually just trying to set himself up to score at the end of the night. You already hadn’t been intimate in awhile due to Rafe’s behavior and antics, and you never foresaw the night taking such a horrendous turn.
You curled in on yourself, bringing your legs to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. You laid on your side; the silk top hanging loosely from your shoulders was the only piece of clothing you had on.
Shivers wracked your body, and you couldn’t stop the tears from turning into full on sobs into the duvet.
Rafe had been fetching a towel from the bathroom, only bothering to clean himself up before he was back at the foot of the bed. You hadn’t moved an inch the entire time he was in there, and just one look at you lying on the bed crying had the kook rolling his eyes at your dramatics.
“Oh for God’s sake, calm down.” He slapped at the back of your thigh once, and your body jolted slightly.
“Get ahold of yourself and stop pretending like this isn’t your fault. Threatening to break up with me? On Valentine’s Day? I mean, Jesus Christ.”
When you still made no efforts to move or even acknowledge him at all, Rafe sighed and grabbed your arm, pulling you up with less force than he’d exerted earlier. He gave you no choice but to face him, but looking into his eyes only brought on more tears. His hand moved to cup your jaw, again much less rough this time. He shook your face slightly in his hand as he lowered himself down to your eye level, fixing you with a faux pout.
“How’s that for a Happy Valentine’s Day?”
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740 notes · View notes
bakugoushotwife · 8 months
Note
OMG GIRL
i just got a brilliant idea,
ok so roommate gojo finds reader in only a shirt (his shirt btw ;)) and underwear
and then things just get absolutely dirty
i hope you like this idea just as much as i do!!!
thanks so much 🫶🏻
a/n: god i wanna kiss u on the mouth for these sometimes. this has been in the forefront of my mind for days!!! it went a little off the rails babe ngl
cw: pervy gojo, yandere-esque gojo, he's obssessed and delulu. unprotected sex, facefucking, fingering and oral (fem receiving), mating press, breeding, daddy, pet names, mean-ish roommate gojo, size kink, panty stealing, uh lemme know if i missed anything. will go back and edit!
wc: 4.5k
Lucky Day (Satoru Gojo x fem!reader)
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This apartment was so shitty, and your landlord was even worse. Your roommate was at work, so there really was no other option. The pipes on the washer bursted, spraying the outfit you had on and making sure you couldn’t wash anymore. It was a miracle that you managed to turn the water to the washing machine off, you felt like a goddamn plumber from that alone. You even accomplished ordering a new pipe, only problem being it wouldn’t arrive for three more days. 
With a heavy sigh, you peel off your soaked crop top and sling it in your hamper, sliding off your shorts and underwear as well, truly unlucky. The only mercy shining upon you at this point was being home alone as you sprint to your room naked. You can only imagine the endless teasing that you would receive if Satoru was here. 
You grumble about your misfortune under your breath, pilfering through your drawers to find a new outfit to put on. Of course, you would be so unlucky yet again. You look up to the gods with narrowed eyes, as if this was personal. Really, it’s your own fault, damn the procrastination tendency you struggled with. You just had random pairs of socks and a Christmas themed onesie. You were honestly grateful to locate a red lace thong that was venturing closer to the shoelace side of size. You tug the poor excuse for underwear up your thighs, letting them slap against your hips in frustration. You had to put something on, your roommate was a huge tease, the gorgeous motherfucker. It was highly annoying, though you imagine if you were so unnervingly beautiful you may act the same way. In any event, walking around topless was not an option. You can practically hear the sarcastic whip of his voice dripping off his tongue right now. 
“Oh-ho-ho, did I come home or did I walk into a titty bar?” 
“And you swear you don’t want me, sweetheart?” 
“Aw, how did you know I had a bad day?” 
Each line makes you shiver. He was impossible to deal with, but he kept the rent low. As much as you hate to admit it he was nice to look at too, though you were hell bent on keeping that to yourself. He knew it anyway, there was no need to inflate his already massive ego. Why would you tell him? It would just be embarrassing, especially with his naturally outgoing nature. He would rip you apart if you admitted how you may actually feel about your snarky counterpart. You were nothing special to look at anyway, it would be silly to get your hopes up. Maybe he was annoying, but parts of you enjoyed him pestering you all hours of the day and scaring any potential suitors away. 
You would definitely never hear the end of it if you didn’t cover up soon, the clock ticking closer and closer to his typical arrival time. You groan. The only solution was putting on something of his. This route would still produce plenty of jabs, but at least you could potentially explain what had happened. You dart across the hall to his room, yanking open his drawers. You’ve been in his room several times, but it’s always slightly surprising each time. He’s cleaner than you’d think, and the room is decorated very minimally. You rummage through his dresser, finally locating a black tee. You’ve seen this one on him before, and it fits him like a second layer of skin, but you’re around a foot shorter, so it should serve to cover your chest comfortably. You tug it over your head, humming in satisfaction. It falls just above your knees, more dress than shirt. You sigh once more at the outfit pairing, but you return to your room all the same. You decide to curl up with a book until your nuisance comes home, after texting to see if Shoko would let you come over to wash some clothes. 
“Honeyyyy I’m homeeeee.” Satoru sings, keys jingling as he comes through the door of the humble abode. He scrunches his nose, smelling the metallic tinge to the air, so he goes to check out the laundry room. It’s a mess of towels attempting to soak up the flood of water, every piece of fabric in the vicinity was soaked. He clicks his tongue. Luckily the water had been turned off, but Gojo wondered to himself if a maintenance man came in to rescue you, knowing you can hardly turn on the gas stove yourself. He can’t help but be a little jealous, no—overprotective. You were such a delicious little thing, and he can’t stand to see you get ogled by men less than deserving. You won’t give him the time of day, though he’s most certainly the only man deserving of ogling you. He hums at the scene, deciding he should go and ask what happened, that way he could figure out if that pervy handyman needed his eyes gouged out. 
He marches to your room and pushes the door open. “So–the pipe on the wa—” 
He froze. He’s greeted with the sight of you stretched out on top of your comforter, one long leg folded delicately over the other, until his t-shirt covered the rest of you from the knee up. It dwarfed you, made him painfully aware how much smaller you were. So tiny compared to someone so tall and strong as him. Yet you swear he’s the tease. He bites his lip, shamelessly pulling his dark lenses down his nose, crystal clear eyes peeking over the frames to memorize everything about you. You sat with your back straight against the headboard, small hands clutching a thick book.
 “Am I dreaming, or are you laying there in my shirt and nothing else?” He grinned, propping an arm up on the doorway. He doesn’t miss the way you squirm under his lazer focus. 
You feel your body heat up. You even had prep time, yet you still didn’t know exactly what to say. You swallow thickly. “I have panties on. I had nothing to put on! The pipe burst on the washer and soaked me–”
“Oh I’ll get you soaked babe–”
“Satoru!” You yelp, slamming your book closed with a loud clap. He just snorts at your embarrassment, half-lidded eyes still scanning over you to make his desire known. You can’t count the amount of times that your roomie has openly flirted with you, but it shocked you each time. 
“Y/N!” He mocked, rolling his eyes. He pushes himself off the frame and gets to the edge of your bed within a few strides. He plops down uninvited, staring at you almost as if he’s challenging you. He rests his hand on your calf, and you just stare at the point of contact with a raised brow. The man is awfully comfortable putting his hands on you, though that’s because you’ve been his since the day you moved in, in his mind. All this banter is just him being sweet and romantic. He sighs. “Let’s get real, hm? You look irresistible in my clothes, my mouth is watering over here, princess. I want ya. So stop acting like you don’t want me.” 
You watch as his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, his foot anxiously tapping on the ground. He’s holding back demons here, and he doesn't know how much longer he can keep himself together. It felt like the room got twenty degrees warmer, electricity brewing like you were sitting in the center of a thunderstorm. You suck in a breath of surprise, the angel and devil on your shoulder going back and forth. He was impossibly annoying, clingy and obsessive. He was like a guard dog, but if it was a guard giraffe instead with his lanky limbs and otherwise goofy nature. On the other hand, he was impossibly sexy, and you would be a dirty liar if you continued to pretend you didn’t want him to rearrange your guts in his t-shirt. 
But what’s the harm in being a tease?
“What if I don’t?” You smirk, to which he mirrors your expression. If you want to play, he can do that too. He’ll make you regret it though. That flash of adoration in your eyes told him everything he needed to know. 
“Give me a chance anyway. You’ll never fuck anyone else after this, I promise.” He says, not waiting for another catty reply from your pouty lips. He’s lunging forward, large hands grabbing your face to keep you from escaping him. Another second passes and his lips smash on yours. He’s needy, messy, and not holding himself back in this clash of teeth and lips and tongue. You were shocked by his passion, not realizing just how serious Satoru was in his pursuit of you. He kisses you like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, swallowing up any chance you have at getting oxygen with his saliva coated lips. You fist the cover beneath you, clutching the cotton for dear life. 
He’s consuming your senses and you wouldn’t have it any other way; you feel stupid for denying yourself of this for nearly two years now. His touch is fiery, you can feel his fingerprints burn into your skin and the only cure is more of those large palms gliding over your shoulders and chest. You relax into him, moving your mouth fluidly against his smiling one; his taste is of some sort of candy..starbursts maybe, but just the pink ones. His tongue gives you that flavor as it melds with yours, dominating it easily. He’s breathing heavy and grunting, the sound almost sweeter than the candy on his breath. They’re high pitched and whiny, he’s been picturing this scenario for a while now. You find yourself laying back, tugging him by the shirt to hover over you. The fabric wafted his vanilla sandalwood fragrance, of course he would smell and taste so delicious. It’s so befitting of such a deviantly perfect man. He doesn't hesitate to cover your frame with his, boxing your hips in under his as he straddles them. He breaks the make-out session to sit back on his knees to peel off his shirt–a white one not unlike the black one you stole. He throws it over his shoulder and you both hear it faintly fall in the distance. Then you both sigh, you squirm beneath him, hips shamelessly rolling into his semi. The corners of his lips curled into a smile. 
You looked truly angelic, as always. Your lips were plump and swollen from the way he smothered them, your tits perked up and nipples poking through the fabric of his tee. Your hair was just starting to get messy, and he had half a mind to fuck that bratty mouth of yours, holding out on him this long just to look up at him with those needy doe eyes. Now he’s really smirking, and it goes from an idea, to something he just has to see. He gets off of you, sliding out of his shoes, peeling off those annoying socks and his tight black jeans. He hisses when his throbbing erection isn’t so choked back, palming himself over his underwear. He goes to slide those off too when he catches you sitting up to remove his shirt. 
“No. Leave that on.” He growled, yanking his underwear off and throwing it with the rest of the discarded clothes. You hummed in response, the husk of his voice sending a jolt to your pussy. You knew you were growing damp, and the tiny lace wouldn’t do much to stop that from being painfully obvious. You sigh softly at the sight of him, though it almost pisses you off. Yes, of course, even his cock is utterly perfect. Somewhere in the eight inches ballpark, purple veins along his curved shaft led to a pretty pink tip glossy with his arousal. He thumbs the slit and spreads it further, beautiful blue eyes fluttering shut to enjoy the brief strokes. You whine, not sure what he wants you to do. 
Satoru has planned this day for so long, he’ll make sure you comply with his every request to fulfill this fantasy. He stands at the foot of your bed, huge hands wrapping around your ankles so he can drag you to lay completely flat on the mattress. There’s that devious smirk you know, your eyes widen slightly in wonder. He was planning something. 
“I can use that loud ass mouth, right?” He hums, getting back to his knees on the bed. But this time, instead of straddling your hips, he positions his knees on either side of your shoulders. You gulp, his full length looming large over your face. You look past his dick to his oceanic stare. 
“Yeah, yeah. Do your worst.” You manage to squeak, trying to reserve some of your pride. His eyes burn with amusement. He reaches his hand forward, putting a thumb on your chin to tilt your mouth downwards. He grins, angling your throat. 
“You shouldn’t have said that.” He clicked his tongue, swiping at your bottom lip. “Goddamn, I’m gonna ruin you.” He says, affectionately smoothing down your hair while tapping your mouth with his tip. “Open up.”
You part your lips wider, relaxing your jaw; you even stick your tongue out to provide him the perfect mental image to remember. He slides his cock into your silky throat, hot mouth swallowing him all up so good he’s fighting that ball of tension in his stomach just from the sight. He knows he’ll last, even if cums down your throat he’ll make sure he pumps you full of another round. You clearly needed to know who you belonged to. He leans his weight forward, his tip colliding with your gag reflex. You choke around him, but he doesn’t let up. His hand catches him on the headboard, and now he has the perfect angle to hammer into your wet mouth without mercy. He keeps his icy gaze angled down, he can’t miss a second of your tears pooling and sliding down your reddened cheeks. You’re so beautiful, he can’t believe you made him wait two years to claim you like this. That’s fine, he understands that his powerful presence can be a bit much. He is the Honored One after all. He was content to wait for you until you could honor him. 
He’s huge in your throat. You can feel your walls spasm around his cock, gagging and sputtering on him as he relentlessly slams into you. Your nose collides with his snowy pubes every time, saliva slicking down everything. Your cunt burns for attention, he’s driving you crazy with the way he’s looking at you, long white lashes framing the darkest lust-fueled stare you’ve ever seen. He’s using you so perfectly, you don’t mind being sore and unable to speak if it means you get to drink his load. Your hand sneaks over your thighs, sliding your thong over. You’re so drenched that the cold air makes you whimper around his gag, but you let your longest digit glide to your soaking hole. Gathering some of your slick, you slide back up to your aching bundle of nerves, easing circles over yourself. You sigh with relief, and Satoru turns to see why, grunting with dissatisfaction. His hips still, and he reaches to slap your hand away and give a punishing slap to your cunt. You jerk up in surprise, though the pressure was sickeningly sweet. 
“None of that shit. You oughta wait longer, made me wait two whole years to make you mine.” He growls, bringing his hands back to hold your face. He rocks his hips into your face again, moaning softly at how well you’ve acclimated to his rod. Your gags are so erotic, giving you and him both goosebumps. He chuckles, feeling his stomach and cock twitch. 
“Swallow it all or I’m not touching you.” He warns, spurting his seed down your throat. It’s a heavy load, spilling into your cheeks as he drags his cock out. You cover your mouth to keep any of his cum from leaking out, swallowing the hot liquid instantly. His hold on your cheeks makes it easy for him to push your mouth open, making sure you swallow every bit. He taps his tip against your lips in satisfaction, sliding back down your body to straddle your thighs this time. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl. You want me to eat your pussy?” He asks, sharp white teeth nipping at the delicate skin of your neck. 
You nod, still gasping for breath. Your blood was thumping in your ears as well as your pussy, and all you could think about was his strong tongue against yours earlier. 
“Beg me for it.” He smiles, breaking some skin below your collarbone and lapping his tongue over it. “Kept me waitin’ angelface. I think it’s the least you can do for me.” He coos, pushing his tee up all the way up your perfect thighs and over your tits. He nibbles his lower lip at the sight of your exposed body, not that it was the first time he’s seen you. Fresh out of the shower, scouring for clothes with no idea he’s watching or when your pajamas are so skanky you might as well wear nothing at all. This was special though, this was you wanting him, this was you begging for him to make you cum. 
You whine, squirming under him. He eyes the slutty panties, shaking his head. “And I thought I hid all of these…” He sighs, working the drenched fabric off. He sniffs them and whimpers, they smell just as heavenly as all the others. Your pussy glistens with your floods of slick, he can’t help but lick his lips, palming his semi into a full erection again. You hardly thought he was serious with all of his flirts. He definitely seemed like the type to just enjoy flustering someone. Plus, you didn’t quite understand what he saw in you–surely he could be with super models. But he made you cancel any date you had for the past two years and actively barked at anyone who looked at you twice, and now stealing your panties for his use… surely that was a lot of commitment if he was just teasing you right? Fucking your mouth like it was his god given right, wanting you to beg for him, he really did want you carnally. 
“Satoru,” You sigh out breathlessly, the man just out of arm’s reach. You bat your lashes and stare up at him. “Oh god, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you really wan’ed me! I didn’t mean to make you wait, baby, please–just please make me yours. I can’t take it ‘nymore, Sato..” You pant. He swears he’s vibrating, the pout in your voice just too much to handle. He needs you just as bad, but he has to make you cum for him before he ruins your cunt. He bites your thigh, determined to leave a bruise there, too. He’ll mark you up now that you’re his, no one could ever doubt or deny who you belong to. He only knows passion and all or nothing, his love is smothering and obsessive, and you’ll know everything about that. He groans, smelling your dripping juices was the final straw. His lips latch onto your painful need and you gasp out at the feeling. Your thigh burned where he had indented his teeth into it, but the pain only served to fog your brain up and soak your cunt just that much more
“Shoulda known I was serious.” He complains in between languid laps to your middle, drinking up the nectar. “I forgive you. ‘S gonna be okay now, I got us now.” He sighs dreamily, beginning a feisty assault on your core. He nibbles at your clit, sucking on it harshly and then following it with sweet and soothing licks. He can’t help but dip his svelte fingers in your tight hole, growling as you clamp around him. He knows you’re gonna be so fucking tight, and now he’s rutting his hips into your bed to stave off his desire until he pleases you to his liking. He coos as your arousal coats his plump pink lips, shaking his head as he devours you. His fingers pump and curl in all the right places. You’re sputtering and gasping, eyes clenched shut so hard colored orbs prick at your vision. You’re about to explode, every orgasm you’ve ever brought yourself or experienced before paling in comparison to the one you’re about to succumb to now. 
Your legs shake, clenching around his head. His strong hands force your legs back down, squeezing gently on your thighs. He kneads the flesh, admiring how easily you surrendered to him. “You bout to cum, sweet girl?” He teases, working into your spongy spot with his lengthy fingers. 
You nod, worried that he’d make you beg for that too.You decided to get ahead of the curve, babbling immediately. “Yes, please Satoru! Wan’ cum for you s’bad–please!” 
He chuckles, “Of course darling. Cum for me, Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel this good.” He demands, watching your nose scrunch up and your body jerk involuntarily. He can feel the flood of your release against his fingers, and he grins. He can’t hold it back anymore, he has to have you right now. He doesn’t let you recover, folding your legs into a mating press to start, sliding his aching length through your slippery hole and into those choking walls. He groans, letting his head fall back. You were just as tight as he imagined–no, tighter! This was all for him, no one but him would ever touch you again. The way you grip him sends chills down his spine, and his obsessive craving for you turns into an insatiable need. You watch his adam's apple bob in his throat, eyeing the rest of his bare chest and abs that had their own abs. He growls, his hold on the underside animalist. “Oh my god, doll..” He groans, breathing through his nose in an effort to calm himself.
 “I’m gonna give it you so fucking good, little one. Gonna claim you in every way, give you my kids, don’t’cha want that?” He coos, hips snapping into your ass rapidly. He’s abusing your spot instantly, and he knows it. It’s partially because he knows he can’t last too long in this glorious cunt when he’s this worked up and partially because he wants to see you come undone before him, begging for him to fill you to the brim. He did say he’d claim you in every way, what could be more of his mark? His teeth prints bruising your sweet skin, or his child growing in your womb? He shivers at the idea. He never thought this way about people before you. Something about your perfect hair and your sweet smile made him horny in ways he never knew. He craves seeing you full of his cum, making you hold it and not letting you get any medicine to keep you from conceiving. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be, right? 
His cock fills you so right that you know you’d agree to anything right now. Your feet shake by your ears, you can’t take his repeated and unforgiving slams. You nod dumbly, craving his hot load in your pussy and more of his dirty fantasies. “Mhm, wan’ give you pretty babies, ‘Toru, jus’ give it all to me.” You plead, tits bouncing with his brutal fucks. 
His mouth drops open. “Agh, oh fuck..you really want me to knock you up baby? Lock me in as your baby daddy?” He questions breathily, dick jumping as you clench down. You really did like the idea it seems, as your wanton moans and soaking wave of cum clue him in to some fantasies of your own. 
You nod vigorously again. “Yes! Oh my god, yes, please, Daddy…I’ll make you one I swear!” His whines are so rewarding. The pleasure you send coursing through him causes his brows to furrow.
“You fucking got it angel. Make me a baby.” He nods, determined to follow through on your wish. His cheeks flush, his cum shooting all over your walls. It was hot and gushing, your hole clenches in an effort to hold onto it.  He’s wanted you all this time, there was no way you would escape him now. Now, you were all for him forever, and he hoped his seed took hold and grew within you. Couldn’t be so bratty if you were glowing with a child, his child. He had more than enough money, in his mind it's completely rational. He just wanted you to be reminded who you are now, who you belong to. The world needs to know it too, and he doesn’t mind to keep trying until it works. “Gonna look so pretty when you swell up for me.” He giggles, lazily blinking at you. He pushes your beautiful hair out of your face, gently holding your cheek. 
“I love you. That’s why I act this way. You’re all mine now, for good. I'll always take good care of you, my pretty mama.” He coos, his voice sweet as he leans up to kiss your parted lips, your body still coping with the waves of pleasure. Sure, all the dinners you’ve made for him and all the times you’ve folded his laundry was just you being nice, but you knew why you cared so much for your annoyingly handsome roommate. 
“I love you too. Here I was thinking this was the unluckiest day of my life.” You snort, running your hands through his white locks as he remains content to lay on top of you. He chuckles in return, but his mind is busy. He’s thinking about what theme for the nursery, names for your son or daughter, and how good you’d look needing him for everything for the next nine months. 
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