#then it dissolved into praise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shotmrmiller · 2 months

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pornstar au

f!reader x simon 'ghost' riley

3.7k words (sorry)

tw: teacher-student relationship but it's just a scene for porn. explicit. horrifyingly so.

You burst into the classroom and stride purposefully towards your professor, who is seated in his leather chair, engrossed in his work. Impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for him to finish marking essays. However, after 5 minutes, your patience with this unbearable man ran out.

"Professor."

He hums, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat yet doesn't look up from what he's doing. A real piece of work, he is. How fucking aggravating.

"Professor Riley," your voice takes an irreverent tone.

The hand that had been writing non-stop comes to a sudden pause, and he finally directs his attention to you. Meeting your gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, his lips set in a firm line. His job is to literally deal with students, yet he dares to look annoyed.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong 'r am I gonna have to learn how to read minds?" he states.

Taking in a calming breath, you clench the crumpled essay in your hand. "Can you explain to me why you failed me on this? I did exactly as you asked!"

He must know precisely what you're talking about because he simply turns back to the papers on his desk.

"Tha's your problem. You did exactly as I asked, with no thought behind it. Just wrote the bare minimum, if you can even call it writin'. It's copy-paste," Professor Riley sets the pen down and leans back in the chair.

"I need ya to use tha' head o' yours when in this class. Otherwise, you'll fail the rest o' your classes too."

Fucking hell.

Professor Riley shifts in his seat, seemingly done with the conversation, and finishes, "If tha's all."

Shit. Your pause is too long, and the director calls it. Fuck.

"I'm really sorry, Ghost, I didn't mean-" Your words of apology dissolve into thin air as his strong hand finds its place on your hip— giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.

"S'all righ', love. Mistakes happen. Matter fact," his eyes drift from you to behind you to beckon someone with two fingers. "C'mere, you."

It's the set assistant, and he's brought the script with him. Ghost swiftly stops him from handing it to you, instead pushing it onto the assistant's chest. "Won't be needin' tha', thanks. Tell the director tha' we'll be ad-libin'. Now sod off."

The assistant follows his command in haste, scurrying off to follow Ghost's instructions.

"Hey," he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, feeling the intensity of it quickens your heartbeat. "Say whatever you like, just remember to follow the storyline, alright?"

Follow the storyline. In porn. The irony isn't lost on you, but you bite the side of your gummy cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, sir."

He drops his hand from where he held you slowly, seemingly almost reluctant to let go. "Ready?" Ghost's thin lips curl into a smirk when you nod at his question. "Good girl."

Your fingers tightly grip the flimsy material of your uniform skirt at his praise, and warmth pools in your lower belly.

His good girl.

A high-pitched voice cuts through your thoughts, signaling the restart of the shooting. You exhale a long breath, unclenching your hands in the process.

Action.

"If tha' all." Ghost reaches for his pen when you frantically grab onto his Oxford sleeve.

"Wait, Professor, please! I can't," you stammer, "I cannot fail this class! My parents would kill me if I studied abroad only to flunk. The tuition—"

His tone is authoritative as he abruptly cuts off your lengthy excuse. "Enough. Nothing can change the mark I've given you."

Your ears pricked up at his wording, and the corners of your lips pulled up into a roguish smile. "No?" Ghost stills before turning to face you, countenance blank. "Nothing at all, Professor?" With a coy tilt of your head, your wide, doe-like eyes meet his as your fingertips trace an alluring path from his forearm down to his knuckles.

"I really can't convince you in any way to change that grade for me?" You lean on the edge of his wooden desk— skirt so short it doesn't even graze the surface of it— and lightly curl your hand around his pointer finger. "It can be our little secret, Professor Riley," you purr.

Ghost lifts a single brow, and settles back into his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as his eyes travel from your feet to your exposed cleavage, fixating on the soft skin peeking out from your uniform top.

"Please?" his hushed voice reverberates inside your skull. "I promise to be a good girl."

That catches his attention, eyes flashing to yours, the fire behind them hot— you hope it burns you.

"'Sat, right? Tha' changes things now, doesn't it?" Ghost rolls his chair back, away from his desk, and spreads his thick legs apart in invitation, arms resting on the rests— the dictionary definition of casual. "Convince me then, pet."

"Yes, sir." Sauntering to stand in between his legs, you swallow thickly— the bulge in his groin was quite frankly, intimidating. You've had large, but this was in a league of its own.

"You gonna do it from up there? I know I'm bigger than average but not tha' big." A huff escapes from your lips. A whole comedian.

Knees pressed into the cold, tile floor, you expertly undo the button of his trousers and with his help, pulled them down along with his pants— just enough for his cock to spring free.

Bloody fucking hell.

His cock is monstrous. It rested against his belly, heavy and thick. The pink tip slightly peeking from under his foreskin. There was a groomed thatch of coarse hair at the base, and his balls were also heavy— one hanging lower than the other.

Ghost leans forward and cradles the underside of your jaw with one large hand, fingers gently caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, while the other pumps his rigid cock in anticipation. "Not scared, are ya?" His grin was wicked. "I promise it don't bite."

Grabbing his wrist, you maneuver his hand so that his thumb now rests on your soft lips. "Might not, but I do, Professor." And catch the tip of his finger between your blunt teeth, the subtle sting of it making him hiss.

"Perfect, pretty girl," he says, almost inaudible. His words of praise are for you alone— not for the scene, nor the camera. You peer up at him through your lashes, mewling softly at the expression on his face.

His brow was set, hooded eyes sultry, a rosy hue across his cheeks and nose, and lips parted as he panted quietly.

Delicious.

Ghost then pushes his thumb further into your slick mouth and hooks it behind your bottom teeth, delicately pulling you closer to him as he tips his head down— taking his thumb out with a pop. His warm breath fans across your face as he moves closer until his lips connect with yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting of frosty mint and his own unique taste.

Your hands come up, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs when he grasps your wrist and moves it to the focal point of his desire— his breath hitching when you give his cock a firm squeeze. Ghost bites your bottom lip before breaking away, a guttural noise escaping him when you begin to stroke him. "Tighten your hand around—" he breaks off, moaning against your kiss-swollen lips when you comply.

He threads his fingers through your hair that sits at the base of your skull, curling them into a fist and tugging back— craning your neck, hair pulled taut.

"So obedient. Jus' f'me, love?" you hum cheekily, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

"Would you hold it against me if I said no?" he chuckles under his breath, the grip on your hair tightening marginally.

"I'd say tha' you're lyin'." He sucks in a breath when you press down lightly onto his slit with your thumb. "Cheeky."

He loosens the hold he has on you, feeling your scalp prickle with tender relief, and relaxes back into the chair. "All yours, sweetheart."

That light wasn't getting any greener, so with a grunt, you shifted your weight, ignoring your aching knees, and wrapped your lips around his cock.

Barely.

The salty bite of his arousal and musk spread on your tongue as you took him in deep, stilling once he hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, look at me."

Slightly tipping your head back, you do as he says, your throat closing around him as he slips in even further.

"Fuckfuckfuck," a hiss, "such a hot little mouth, just swallowin' me righ' up." Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen, forcing you to pull back to gasp for air. Ghost squeezes himself at the base and taps your cheek with his saliva-coated length.

"A dirty slag like you, jus' takin' me like a professional. Tha' what you are? A professional cock sucker, love?" he taunts. Your pussy clenches when he calls you a slag, pressing your thighs together in the hope of some friction; Something to alleviate the throbbing ache in between your legs.

Ghost with eyes as keen as ever, notices. Damn.

"Oh? Little harlot likes to get degraded, does she? Reminded of her place? How I'd love to teach you exactly where you belong, but tha' wouldn't be you convincin' me to change your bad grade, now would it?"

His cock taps on your swollen lips. "Another time, hm? Now open. Make me see reason."

Ghost's wish is your command. With enthusiasm, you take him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, place a hand right under your lips, and twist with every push and pull.

It's sloppy, spit covering your hand, dripping down to his balls. Your jaw aches, a burning pressure a little under your ear, but what gives you the strength to continue is the loud moans coming from Ghost. He holds nothing back, his hand engulfing the crown of your head while he gently pushes you down. A performer down to his very bones.

You were about to pause the recording, the pain in your mandible and knees almost becoming too much when he suddenly pulled you off of him.

"Wha—?" Ghost seizes you by the upper arms, forcibly bringing you to your feet, disregarding your pained whimper, and places you on the sturdy desk.

He's curling his fingers into the waistband of your frilly knickers, slipping them down your legs and pocketing them. There's a quiet popping sound when he bends his knees, going eye level with your bare cunt.

In a hushed tone, you say, "This isn't part of the scene." Ghost drags his eyes from your glistening slit to your face, gaze suffocating, smothering the very air in your lungs.

"Just a taste, love." He curls one hand under your thigh, lifting it to perch it on the edge of the desk, the other he throws over his strong shoulder. The only sound in the room is your soft moans as he expertly slides his warm tongue through your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

By god does he eat pussy like it's his job. Peering down at him, you can't stop the sounds that spill from your mouth when his tongue visibly splits your pussy lips open, flicking at your clit, lapping up your arousal like it is honey. You take hold of his short hair, tugging at the strands as each swirl of his talented tongue pushes you closer to your peak.

His eyes cut to yours when he presses a thick finger into you, drinking in your desperate expression as you keen, begging for more, blabbering about it being so good, yet not enough, please god more.

Ghost curls his finger, only taking a second to find your sweet spot, and pushes— bursts of light flashing in your peripheral vision. You begin to rock your hips unconsciously, chasing your ecstasy, and Ghost simply flattens his tongue, letting you grind against it.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, a tightening in your stomach, right under where his finger is. Shaky exhales leave you, the leg that's on the desk visibly trembling from the tension that threatens to snap you in half.

He presses a kiss to your sodden pussy, and croons, "Gonna come f'me?" You jerkily nod.

"Yes fuck yes, I'm gonna come for you, just for you, Professor Riley pleaseee—" your blathering turns into a high-pitched squeal as he lightly sucks on your pearl, hips lifting off the desk as a blinding orgasm crashes into you, pleasure bursting through your very core, cunt pulsating with every wave of ecstasy around Ghost's finger.

He wastes no time in rising to his feet and slotting his mouth over yours, the taste of your slick strong, potent on his tongue. Ghost breaks away, his breath smelling of your desire. "Exquisite, like ambrosia. Addicting."

Ghost's hand cups your sensitive quim and whispers, "Think you can take me? Tha' orgasm took a lot outta ya."

Silly question. "I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can take it."

He licks the front of his teeth and glances down to where his hand rests. "Course you can, love. Turn around f'me."

Your movements are sluggish as you turn over onto your stomach, rising to the tip of your toes as you present yourself to him.

Ghost grabs the sides of your waist, and flips your skirt up, tucking the edge into the waistband of it. His hands palm your cheeks, thumbs digging into the meat of your ass to spread you open, completely exposed to him.

"Fuck me if tha' isn't the prettiest sight I've ever had the pleasure of seein'." He doesn't acknowledge your scoff as he spreads your hands out, placing them flat on the table— enveloping your hand with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His leans over your semi-prone body, cock gently prodding at your entrance, gliding easily through your folds. "Ready?"

Arching your back, his tip slips inside, just barely. That's your answer.

You can hear the smarmy grin that spreads on his face, and wanted to snark back but you're rendered mute when he pushes in. Your eyes cross at the stretch of his cock, a feeling so sublime you know that no one will ever be able to duplicate. Your fingers tighten around his as you mewl when he bottoms out, hips flush against your arse.

Ghost sucks in a breath through his teeth when you shift your weight, and whatever you did has him sliding in deeper— turning his hiss into a guttural groan. "Fuck, you have no fuckin' idea how good you feel."

Probably not, but you have every idea how good he feels.

"You okay, love? Took me so well like you were made jus' f'me. So warm and soft, tight like a vice around my cock. Pretty pussy split wide open, stuffed full of me." He speaks unfettered filth to you, dripping over your ears like molasses, thick and syrupy. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders— dizzy, drunk on his scent, his cock that's got you tearing at the seams.

Then he begins to move, pulling out until an inch remains inside, and pushing in until he's nudging the plug of your womb, feeling a deep pinch under your navel.

This is what it's like to get fucked by Ghost. The one everyone covets after, hoping he drags down the very heavens with his bare hands and lays it at their feet. And here he is, fucking you. A newbie, a fresh face no one knows yet, a name that'll probably never grace the front page.

You doubt his motives are altruistic, but goddamn does it not matter; Not with the way he's carving a space inside of you that only he will ever fit in, or the way he's curling his free hand around your neck, thumb pressed right over your racing pulse.

He lowers himself until his strong chest is to your back, his teeth nipping the tip of your ear. "The moment I saw you gettin' fucked by Johnny, I knew I had t'have ya." Your walls clamp down on him involuntarily, wrenching a pained noise from him. "Fuckin' hell, I knew this pussy would be magical."

Ghost's lips skim over the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss on it. "Lemme hear how good I make ya feel, pet. Don't hold back on me now." He grinds into your arse, going in so deep that it feels like he's trying to push past the entrance of your womb. "S'alrigh'. I'll jus' have t'pull 'em outta ya."

He releases you, placing both hands flat on the desk, on either side of your shoulders. "Take em for myself, make 'em mine." Straightening all the way, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist.

"What a view. Perfection." He rolls his hips, rhythm languid, loud squelching noises coming from where he fills you. "Drippin' cream all over my cock, pet. Can't tell me this isn't 'cause of me."

How the fuck can he still talk? How is he coherent? Why isn't his brain turned into mush like yours is?

"Fuckin' ya speechless, am I? Oh, sweetheart, but I'm barely gettin' started." Ghost slowly pulls out, and curls his hand around your shoulder, nudging you to turn over. "On your back, now."

You lazily flip over, hair sticking to your sweat-slick skin, and he hooks his arms underneath your legs and drags you to the edge until your arse hangs from it. "I wanna see that pretty face when you come." He wastes no time in sheathing himself back inside your swollen channel, walls fluttering at the invasion.

Ghost hooks one leg over his shoulder to lean forward, pinning you to the desk with his upper body, and maneuvers your other to wrap around his wide waist. "That cock drunk look on your face makes my balls tighten, what a fuckin' expression you've got, christ," he growls. "Knowin' I put it there makes it all the better."

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gives you a smile that is all teeth. "Now let's make you sing."

Grunting, he straightens. plants his feet firmly, stance wide, and begins to fuck you. The videos of the famed Ghost you saw are nothing, nothing, in comparison to real life. His full weight is behind every spine-jarring thrust, it makes your teeth clack, it rattles your brain inside your skull. He does it so perfectly because at no point do you feel any discomfort, not even a twinge. It's all a pleasure that blazes, an all-encompassing heat that threatens to swallow you whole, burn you from the inside out.

His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, wails clawing out of your throat, and it's so good, so fucking good— god, maybe he is god, you don't know, everything is so blurry, hazy—

All senses focus on the sudden touch between your legs, an expert thumb drawing tight circles on your slippery clit and there's no way you're going to survive this—

"There she is, the girl I saw in the video. Tha's an expression I see in myfuckin' sleep. Give me what's mine, pet. Let me feel you, cream all over my cock."

He's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, a wave of pleasure so intense, it just might drag you out to sea, drowning you.

Ghost, the fucking god of sex, stops his ministrations to spit on your pussy. Spit. From his full height, a glob of warm saliva drops to your mons, and he smears it with his fingers over your pussy lips before rubbing your clit. His thrusts slow in pace, turning into a firm snap of his hips, making sure you feel every ridge of his cock, and in less than a minute, your spine arches off the desk.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream, lids snapping shut as you break underneath him, warmth gushing from where he's continuously sinking into you, a steady, slow rhythm that never ends.

"Came all over me, didn't ya? Bet you didn't know you could even do tha'."

You didn't.

"Jus' for tha', I'm gonna give you somethin' in return, yeah? A little reward for bein' so good," he praises.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, swollen and thick, and unconsciousness creeps at the very edges of your mind.

All you can do is lie there and take it, his sloppy thrusts, his harsh panting until he moans, "'m close, so fuckin' close," and with whatever remnants of strength you have left, you use to squeeze him tightly— unwilling to let go because his come is yours now, you've earned it.

"Come in me, Ghost," you whimper.

That does it. He slams his hands on either side of your head and borderline roars out his release, cock twitching inside of your used cunt, filling you with his spend.

Cut.

Ghost's breathing is labored, a harsh pant that fans over your overheated skin, damp with sweat.

His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, gulping in air and shivering in the aftershock of his climax.

To be fucked by Ghost is to see the Garden of Eden behind your eyelids.

Now you understand. You understand why he has no equal. He is unparalleled.

Jesus Christ, you're fucked. So, so fucked.

He slowly opens his eyes and peers down at you with a wolfish grin.

"Perfection."

A week later, your video with Ghost is the most viewed on the entire website. Not one other video even scratches the bottom of where your video sits.

Ghost truly is the king.

Curiously enough, your friend is the one who lets you know that Mr. life-altering cock himself never kisses during work. Not once in any video of his has he ever kissed, apart from a short pressing of lips to skin.

Your heart traitorously flutters at the thought of it meaning something more. Catching feelings when you get fucked for a living is not the move. But there's no stopping it from misbehaving, especially when you receive another script, to make another video with Ghost.

Another. one.

Fuck. Fuck!!

You cannot wait.

@mishaglass

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #cod #cod smut #simon riley x you #simon riley #pornstar!au #simon ghost riley x you

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cosmosis · 10 months

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based on this image from @fr3akingtf0utrn

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - office life

how miguel o’hara slowly makes you fall for him check out my miguel o’hara masterlist here!

Miguel O’Hara doesn’t fall in love with just anyone.

But... every time he sees you around the office, his hands almost inch towards you like a moth would a light. Something ignites in him that he can’t explain, but he can’t help but want so much more of you.

He likes to give you bagels and coffee during your breaks. (haha) Your work almost seems to magically disappear, and you’re a lot of the time left to finish up the easy stuff. Somehow, he’s even managed to sit with you for lunch, the rest of the spider-people in the cafeteria staring at the two of you while you eat.

The entire building, all of the spider-people seem to know the happenings between you and Miguel, and they love it. It’s become somewhat a staple gossip within the workplace.

Anyone bold enough would pass by Miguel in the hallways and say, “We’re rootin for you, boss!” In which Miguel wouldn’t know how to feel, whether it’d be angry or happy.

As of now, the two of you have been flirting around, evidently more than just coworkers. He’s yours, and you are his. To you, though, he’s the absolute sweetest. He takes work off your plate, he’s kind, and he adores you.

You’ve noticed Miguel getting a bit touchy lately, which you aren’t necessarily complaining about. Whether it’d be on your arm, a gentle hand on your neck to guide you through a crowd, or just being generally close to you, Miguel has been making his advances on you after Lyla spilled how it should be fine to do.

His touch makes you shiver a little; he’s extra warm and so very gentle. You almost always lean into his touch, and Miguel loves it too, he just doesn’t admit it upfront.

“You did great today, Miguel.“ You say.

Both you and Miguel just headed back to Nueva York from a mission, taking out another stray anomaly that wouldn’t come without a fight.

Miguel’s stomach flutters a little. Rarely, he ever gets praised by anyone. He’s the boss, the CEO; most of the time, he feels like it’s expected of him to do the best job. But, praise tastes much more sweeter when it comes from you.

“You did well yourself, sweetie.“

Miguel’s mask dissolves away, leaving behind his pretty face. You don’t think you’d ever get tired of it. He gives you this look of adoration, one that the rest of the office has never, ever seen in person.

You’re in Miguel’s office, well, more like your shared office. Miguel insisted that you’d move into his office, claiming, “I don’t want to go through the entire building just to find you for something.” which is code for, “I can’t live a day without being near you.”

So now, you have your own desk and work area. You’re both alone, no one to bother, (except maybe Lyla, but she knows better.)

You’re at your desk, and Miguel steps up behind you. His big hand slithers to your lower back, running his fingers against the curve of your spine. He’s warm, you can still feel the heat radiating off of him from the previous mission.

You feel him lean in, discreetly nosing his face into the top of your head. You lean in back, bumping your upper back into his chest.

“Is this okay?“ Miguel mumbles, serious heat trailing up to his neck and ears.

You nod. “Yes.”

And it was sealed from there.

Now, Miguel rubs your back too often. His hand fits into place with your back like a puzzle piece, Miguel always finding some kind of way to lay his hand where it belongs. You love it.

In the office? Yes.

During lunch? Yes.

Even on missions, he pulls you by your lower back to usher you away from a hit, and you both play around with that. He’s all fun and games when on missions, flirting, teasing, kissing.

Now, it almost feels wrong when he isn’t touching you.

. . .

“Hey, girl, look at this!“

Lyla pops in, automatically pulling up an internet article on your desk screen. It’s a web article; “The Science Behind Courtship in Male Spiders”

“Lyla, what does this have to do with anything?“ You ask.

Instead, she just scrolls into the article, highlighting a quote; male spiders give “back rubs” to seduce their mates.

You raise your eyebrow.

“You wanna know why Miguel’s been rubbing you so much? It’s cause of that!“ Lyla exclaims, as if she’s discovered this new scientific theory.

“I guess you’re kinda right on that.“ You mutter. But, the more you start to think about it, the more it makes sense.

Now every time Miguel palms your back, you think about the article.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv lyla #atsv #spiderman #across the spiderverse #lyla #atsv miguel o'hara #x reader #reader inser #fluff #romance #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

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thefallofruins · 5 months

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── “Inconvenience” [Ryomen Sukuna]

Request — I love love love love love your fav concubine/queen stories with sukuna 😍😍😍😍❤️❤️❤️❤️ can I request a story where for the concubine rides sukuna's tummy tongue until he's completely satisfied , like edge play/multiple orgasm or pregnant sex where the queen is really needy and horny for her husband after he has spent so much time outside.

A/N — hi nonnie, tysm for requesting <3 hope you don't mind, but I went with preggo sex cuz I'm not comfy writing fics with his belly mouth involved yet, so I'm really sorry. Hope you enjoy this though.

Warnings — pregnant sex, praise, creampie, nipple play, true form! Sukuna Minors DNI

"S'kuna, missed you so much..." you mumble softly, face buried in his chest. He was met by such an adorable sight the moment he returned— his adorable, pretty lil wifey with a small yet visible baby bump rushing to greet him and capturing him in a hug. He chuckles, patting your head softly.

"That so? just how much did you miss me, my Queen?" he places a finger beneath your chin, gently nudging you to look up at him. One of his other hands are placed on your hip, his thumb tracing your slightly swollen belly.

"Too much, Sukuna..." you reply with a frown. Your hormones were driving you mad. Carrying the child of the king of curses wasn't easy, your needs increased phenomenally. You needed Sukuna more than ever, you needed him to be by your side, saying soft and comforting things to you, reminding you of how good you are, how proud he is of you for carrying his little heir.

He chuckles again, a hand reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Well, I'll have to apologise to my Queen for causing her such inconvenience, no?"

"You better," you pout, tiptoeing in an attempt to get a kiss. He smiles and pulls you close, bending a bit to give you a well-deserved kiss. You whimper softly as he bites your lower lip, his tongue swirling around yours, driving you crazy. You needed him so, so, so bad.

He parts, allowing you your oxygen, a thumb tracing your lower, swollen lips slightly. Goodness, you had gotten so beautiful with his heir growing in you. A hand traces the line of your back, causing shivers to run down your spine, "My beautiful queen..."

A short gasp escapes you as his fingers finds your loosely tied obi— untying it in a single moment. Your kimono loosely falls at your sides, and Sukuna gently places you back on your bed where you lay resting before his return. He presses a few kisses on the soft skin of your neck, relishing your scent— one he had to unwillingly part from for a few days.

"Magnificent..." he mutters, trailing kisses before stopping at the swell of your breasts, which had swollen significantly thanks to the pregnancy. He chuckles darkly, cupping your sore tit with one hand, making you whine softly before his lips latch onto your nipple, sucking deviously on the sore skin.

"N–Ngh...S'kuna..." you let out a soft moan, fingers tugging on his pink hair slightly as you feel the wetness grow between your thighs. You rub your legs together to soothe the growing ache. Sukuna, noticing soon, parts from your nipple with a smile, a string of saliva dissolving as he does.

"Feeling needy, are we?" he speaks, his finger reaching below to trace your dripping folds from over the cloth. "Ah...so needy, my queen." he chuckles, feeling the wetness grow and watching you squirm, eyes pleading him to continue.

"Speak, my Queen..." he smirks, teasing you by torturously tracing his finger up and down, finding your sensitive clit. You're a mess and he hasn't even begun yet.

"S-Sukuna–ah, please!" the plea escapes your lips, "N-Need you," you say in a raspy voice. The hormones had gotten you so needy and sensitive for him. He chuckles, the no-good panties ripped off from you in an instant, revealing your glistening cunt.

"How cute." he smirks, beginning to undress himself, the kimono falling off his body, the silk material falling of his body. You eye your husband with your needy eyes— making quite a cute sight for his. He reveals his cock– veiny, throbbing, pre-cum dripping down from his tip. Such a sight could make you drool on spot...

"Ready, my Queen?" he asks, a smile on his lips as he rubs the tip against your puffy lips. You give him a weak nod, as he prods his cock into your entrance, making you gasp at the sensation of his girth slowly filling up your tight entrance. "S-Sukuna!"

He enters your heat fully, making you feel every inch of him, and added your grown sensitivity from your hormones— every push, every pull, every caress on your skin, it drove you crazy. "O-Oh, Sukuna-Ah!" you moan, wrapping your hands weakly around his neck.

He begins to rock his thick length in and out of your tight cunt, which welcomed it warmly, squeezing around it everytime. He groans, feeling the slick coat his cock, feeling the warmth of your sweet cunt tightening around him, leaning down to kiss you and leave your lips swollen, feeling your round tits bounce up and down with each thrust against his chest.

"Cum for me, my precious..." he grunts, feeling your gummy walls tighten around him a bit more, knowing you're nearing your sweet release. "Mnhh...S'kuna!!" you moan out loudly, a clear liquid gushing over his cock as your walls clamp around him, your head buried in the crook of his neck, making him grin merrily.

A few more thrusts, and he finds himself close to release too, he grunts audibly before emptying his seed into you. A soft whine escapes your lips as you feel the warm sticky liquid fill you up, feeling more sensitive than ever. He pulls out, looking at his cum gush out of your cunt slowly, proud of the mess he created.

His eyes shift back at your tired form, and he leans to press a kiss to your forehead, gently brushing the strands of your hair from my face before he grins at you, "Hope that was enough to make up for the inconvenience caused."

You, through heavy breaths, manage to give him a soft and sweet smile, "Will do..."

He smiles at your response, laying himself beside you, kissing your forehead softly. His fingers gently traces the swell of your belly. "You did well, my love..." he says softly, allowing you to rest as you cuddle up to him.

A hand rests on your head and the other on your belly, he's enthralled by the fact that there's a tiny version of him on the way. And you're the one who's giving him this blessing. His precious queen.

"I'm so proud of you," he mutters softly, kissing the top of your head. That's the last thing you hear before slipping into sleep's sweet embrace.

#jujutsu sukuna #jjk smut #ruins posts #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna fluff #true form sukuna #sukuna imagine #ryomen sukuna smut

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dog-pilled · 6 months

Text

cw: intox, somno

my fantasy of the day:

spending the night with your owner, because you haven’t been sleeping well lately, and they know just how to put you to sleep!!

“c’mere pup, let’s get you some melatonin to help you go to bed on time tonight.” you protest, but only slightly - as fun as it is to stay up with your owner, you know you need your rest.

“open up-” they gently hold your jaw as they place the tablet on your tongue, and softly run their fingers through your hair as it dissolves in your mouth, leaving behind a fruity taste.

only moments later, you’re snuggled up against your owner, their chest against your back, as the drowsiness begins to set in. all the while your owner is softly tracing their fingers through your hair and over your skin.

just as you’re on the verge of sleep, you feel their fingers make their way up to your mouth. just a finger or two, gently tracing your lips or softly pressing against your tongue, but not enough to wake you from your sleep-hazed state. you’d much rather stay cozy where you are, nearly drooling over your owner’s fingers at this point.

the fingers in your mouth stop for a moment, but are almost immediately replaced with their other hand, as the first slips under your waistband with slick fingers gliding over your tdick. you let out a small, sleepy gasp at the sensation.

“shhh, it’s alright pup, go back to sleep. i’m only helping, remember?” your owner coos with a gentle kiss to the back of your head. the fingers in your mouth massage gentle circles across your tongue, while the fingers at your crotch gently stroke your tdick, back and forth.

before long, you notice you’ve been softly whining and panting in your sleepy daze. maybe you’ve even began sucking on the fingers in your mouth or rutting against your owner’s hand without realizing. but just as you’ve nearly fallen into a blissful sleep, you feel the fingers that were rubbing against your tdick glide down, and then into your already soaking cunt.

you gasp once more as you feel your owner’s fingers slide into you, gently thrusting and massaging how it feels best. it’s hard to do much in this sleepy state other than whine and moan around the fingers in your mouth.

“shhh, it’s alright pup, relax. there ya go~ such a pretty, sleepy mess-” your owner coos once more as the fingers inside you slow down, just to add their thumb against your tdick. their fingers curl inside you as their thumb massages in circles that feel so good, almost helplessly moaning and drooling over the fingers in your mouth as you cum over your owner’s hand.

“what a good pup~” your owner praises, as they bring their motions to a slow and plant gentle kisses along the back of your head, neck, and shoulders. they hold you tightly against them as you come down from your orgasm, falling asleep in your owner’s arms soon after.

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qwimchii · 7 months

Note

i was hoping to put forward a request, if that’s okay? 👉🏻👈🏻 angst (or hurt/comfort?) and smut with ghost? and i’m totally not projecting here but — reader has a hard time finishing, either by themselves or with someone? and when they’re with someone, they get so worried about taking too long and not being able to finish or even feeling good and they apologize for taking too long and it dissolves into them crying and apologizing more and mentioning how they think they’re broken and there’s something wrong with them and it kinda makes them think ghost will leave for someone else because that’s what everyone else has done and basically just ghost being soft and sweet and understanding and taking his time with reassurance and praise and yeah… gonna go hide now 🥲

𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘤 — 5k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥…

note: omllllll!!!! 💞 i am so sorry for taking so long to write this request but this is so sweet and cute 😭 thank you sm for requesting!! ><

pt 2, pt 3

Simon Riley had been your boyfriend for maybe a month now. or maybe two weeks. or maybe three months, you decided finally, sipping your water with closed eyes, willing the frustrated bounce of your knee to settle.

of course, picking your head up and looking at the entrance of the restaurant one last time, that frustration redoubled, and you watched your knee bounce with a mind of its own.

setting the drink back on its coaster, you drew random patterns into the floral tablecloth with a pout. Simon had chosen this restaurant. Simon had initiated communication with you—mindblowing as it was—just last night when you were scrolling through instagram in bed.

the notification had ballooned over a post of an old friend from college traveling in europe, and immediately, you had squealed, pressing your phone to your chest to stop the race of your thrumming heart. you made yourself count out two minutes—at least two, before you responded.

— Dinner tmrw at the diner on 6th ave?

— sure!! good to hear from you :))

— what time??

— 7.

it was curt, it was short, it was sweet, but it gave you all the motivation you needed to power through the day and weasel your way into the diner, earlier to the occasion than usual. now, it was half past seven. now, you were playing with the tablecloth of the booth and feeling stupid and sorry for yourself.

stupid because you had sorely missed Simon since he went radio silent for over a month. sorry for yourself because you had thought you were at least close enough for him to text you beforehand.

definitively, you knew you had met the brit five months ago when he moved into the empty apartment adjacent to your own. he crowded every entrance he stood in, so massive and hulking when the elevator doors that you startled with a squeak, dropping the cardboard box and all the items scattering out over the carpet floor.

you had flushed with embarrassment, whole body heating up as you scrambled to stuff all the items back into the box with a string of apologies. he had dropped to your side without a word, putting back a pair of socks, your old band t-shirt from high school, and tennis shoes that had gone gray with discoloration. he hadn’t even bothered to one-over your personal items, but you were scrambling for an explanation anyway.

“donations for vets,” you said with nervous laughter. “i donate every year.”

“vets?” he reiterated, and you looked up into his face, eyeing the black surgical mask on his face carefully, brown eyes a murky kind of gray-ish beneath blonde eyebrows and his hood drawn up above that.

“mhmm,” you squeaked, suddenly wary of the stranger in front of you.

when he said nothing more, you asked him, “any veterans in the family?”

then he just stared at you and you blushed, feeling stupid for saying anything at all but—

“my grandfather,” he said slowly. “and my great grandfather.”

“nice,” you choked out, unsure what to say as you searched the carpet of the last of your remnants.

then, he added, “i’m in the military as well.”

just when you were about to bolt, intimidated by the sheer size of him and his eerie unfamiliar presence in your apartment complex, it was like he read your mind to introduce himself.

“Simon Riley. new neighbor.”

you nodded slowly, giving him your name back and edging your fingers under the cardboard box, heaving it up into your arms.

“nice to meet you,” you said, giving him a weak smile from over the top of the box. he tilted his head at you, eyes flitting from the box to you.

when a prolonged silence ensued, you turned on your heel and stepped toward the elevator before you jerked around again.

“thank you for your service,” you squeaked, scurrying toward the elevator and feeling awkward when he just watched you from the hallway. you waved as the doors closed, watching him slip his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

with one long look, he turned and prowled down the hallway.

that was five months ago. two months later, after endless awkward encounters of wordless greetings with him, the plumbing in your bathroom sink had exploded, flooding the floor in a puddle of water and spraying over the front of your white dress.

in a panic, you went to your next door neighbor Simon who opened the door upon your third set of rapid knocks.

you looked up to his massive form in the entrance, suddenly aware of how the front of your soaked dress had become sheer when you asked him to help you.

he helped. and then you asked him to get drinks at the bar around the corner as a thank you. then when that became a regular occurrence, things just got more confusing.

it felt exclusive. maybe. you thought it felt exclusive when a man approached you in the bar, gearing up for a casual conversation with a sly smirk, but Simon was always at your back in an instant, a large, warm hand on your waist and his words in your ear.

she’s taken.

your mind spun after the first time it happened. taken?

whirling around on your heel after the man left with a low grumble and scowl, Simon just blinked down at you from behind his surgical mask, squeezing your waist with both hands before he was sinking back down into his seat, hulking as he leaned over the bar.

when the same happened a few more times, you didn’t question it, thinking it was maybe just a perk of the friendship. he staves off a couple creepy men at the bar and you pay for drinks.

or at least that’s how you thought it worked until he started sliding his card across the counter to the bartender to claim the tab before you could even get a word out.

you were especially confused when he knocked at your apartment door one night. you opened it to find him void of the hoodie usually slung up and over his head, blonde hair hanging down his forehead, and a black shirt in its place. that’s when you saw the thick black ink winding down the tattoo sleeve of his arm, and your eyes darted over it with a blush, before you were inviting him in.

he had smelled something baking, he clarified, craning his neck into the kitchen. that made you giddy because you hadn’t taken him for someone nosy, but you entertained it nonetheless, assuming he just had an insatiable sweet tooth for cookies.

another part of you hoped he just had a sweet tooth for you.

then the baking became a regular occurrence. you’d bake him all sorts of sweets while he watched you from the little table in your kitchen, staring from behind that black mask of his while you prattled about your day and he took it all in silently. somewhere along the way, after so many nights of him chewing behind the mask, he ditched it completely, and you could watch him devour your brownies in a few bites without the annoying fabric in the way.

the new schedule had become very regular until it was baking night and he didn’t show up to your door. rolling the tenseness from your shoulders, you sent him a quick text, saying you would bring over the sweets in the morning to his apartment.

when he didn’t respond to that, a little nervous bubble of anxiety rooted in your chest. you found out from your landlord days later that Simon would be away for work, and that hurt more than you wanted it to. if he had taken the time to at least notify your landlord, he could’ve done the same for you… couldn’t he?

unless he didn’t think about you that way. but you were so sure—from the quick glances you shared, his gentle touches as he brushed past you in your kitchen, or the possessive grip on your waist at the bar, or just the way he was so relaxed around you meant something.

those were your thoughts that ran in circles as you sat at the diner booth. the waiter checked on your table every once and a while, sending you nervous glances ever since you said that you had a date… or a friend. or something like that.

you felt stupid for accepting Simon’s proposal so quickly, even after he had ghosted you for weeks. even then, you had dolled yourself up anyways, picking out the new dress you got last weekend and doing your hair and makeup. you buried your face in your hands, not looking up when you heard the chime of the diner opening.

when you heard a familiar, low and grating accent, your head snapped up to see Simon standing by the entrance and talking to the waiter, gesturing to you as the waiter just nodded.

Simon strode over to you, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and dressed in his military fatigues, half his face behind in a black surgical mask.

you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you when you reached your senses, heart soaring as you scrambled to stand. your hands twitched against the table when he stopped in front of you, dropping his duffle bag to the floor.

had he come straight from the airport? for you? you felt like your mind was spinning, but you forced it to still, desperately not wanting to jump to any strange conclusions…

swallowing down your thoughts, you said slowly, “it’s been a while.”

looking up into his murky brown eyes had never been so comforting.

“it has,” he affirmed, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.

for a long moment, you both just stood there in silence, staring at each other and unsure what to do.

eyes darting down to his torso, you could feel the warmth of his body in the close proximity, and you felt so tempted to just touch him.

you outstretched a hand to brush over his clothing, and when he didn’t move away, you pressed your knuckles into his abdomen, amazed to feel him solid and real. then you wrapped yourself around his torso, giving him a tight hug, cheek pressed against his strong chest.

immediately, he engulfed you, squeezing you back.

“missed you,” you admitted, screwing your eyes shut.

you felt his nose press into the crown of your hair. “m’sorry m’late, love.”

“s’fine,” you sniffled, feeling stupid when tears pricked up in your eyes. when you pulled back, you swiped at them with the back of your hand, startled when he reached forward to brush his fingers across your wet cheeks, squishing the chub of your face lightly.

he looked at you with such a softness that you almost melted, feeling nervous because you had never seen him look at you like that before.

then, as you both slid into the booth, you chided him in between sniffles, “don’t do that to me again.”

don’t leave me in the dark again, was what you meant, and you knew he understood what you meant when he nodded curtly.

the dinner went smoothly. more than you could imagine. or maybe you were just overwhelmed with the exhausting joy that Simon was still just the same since before he left two months ago—lowly grunted non-verbal responses as he munched on a platter of fish and chips, stealing a couple of your fries after he devoured his plate at a startling pace, and some rumbles of half-sentences, leaning on his elbow as he watched you ramble with excitement and sip on your milkshake every now and then.

when you accidentally got a smidge of whipped cream on your nose, he reached across the table to wipe it off, cutting through your words mid-sentence. you thanked him with a blush, shifting over the booth, just blushing harder when your shoes knocked against his under the table.

leaving felt smooth too—walking back to the apartment complex just a couple blocks away. even in the darkness of the night, you felt safe tucked near his side, enjoying his presence so close to your side and feeling disappointed when you reached the hallway you shared in the apartment complex.

he stopped by your door and you fumbled with your dress, struggling for words.

“come inside,” you offered, though it sounded more like a plea. your eyes flitted from his face to the duffle bag on his shoulder, hands twisting into the fabric of your dress.

“i know you must be tired but—”

“m’not,” he assured, squaring his shoulders. you nodded dumbly.

“i can bake brownies?” you squeaked, and he blinked down at you.

“s’reason why i’m here, love.”

at that you blushed, opening the apartment and throwing your jacket on the couch, moving to rifle through the kitchen.

“it won’t take long i promise,” you called from behind the fridge door, snatching the butter and eggs from it.

closing the door to turn to the counter, you jolted when Simon materialized beside you, boots, mask, and the jacket of his fatigues off, reaching above you to open a cabinet. your eyes darted over the ink designs of his muscled arm.

“flour and sugar’s here, right?” he asked, and you squeaked a yes, ducking beneath his arm to put the butter and eggs on the counter before grabbing a mixing bowl and baking pan from a lower cabinet.

once all the necessary items were strewn across the counter, you measured out the dry ingredients, dumping them into the mixing bowl. beside you, Simon leaned back against the edge of the kitchen sink, arms crossed as he watched you.

you were hyper-aware of his presence, hands jittery, confused because he always sat at the kitchen table to watch you. he never got this close and personal, uncrossing his arms to slide a hand over the counter right by where your hip leaned against it.

from your peripheral, you glanced at him, finding him already staring down at you.

“can i help?” he asked, voice gruff, and you turned your head to stare at him in dismay. this was new. very new.

“sure,” you choked out, scooting over so he could help you measure out the ingredients. he filled the space easily, arm pressed against yours in the little space.

you blushed. this was very very new.

he cracked an egg on the edge of the bowl, and you watched the yellow glop plop into the flour.

playing off the whole situation as a joke, you laughed nervously as you mixed the wet ingredients into the bowl. “miss my baking that much?”

you bit down on your lip, unable to look at him, just focusing on the churn of brown batter in the mixing bowl. when you felt him lean in, his strong bicep against yours, you muffled a yelp.

“‘course.”

“really?” you asked, pouring the batter into the greased up pan.

for good measure, you dipped a finger into the batter and tasted it, eyes flickering up to Simon. it was sweet.

he stared down at you, an imperceptible, dark look on his face as he leaned over and dipped his thumb into the batter, then swiped the gooey brown substance over your cheek.

“oops.” there was a smugness in his voice that his face smothered, expression blank when he gripped your jaw tight.

you gasped when he turned your face and leaned down to lick you.

the textured muscle of his tongue pressed into the curve of your flesh, licking away the sweet taste from your cheek.

then, he leaned back with a hum. “i like sweet things.”

you clutched at his wrist keeping your jaw firmly in place, wide-eyed and heart beating out of your chest. you watched his finger dip back in the batter and reached up to your lips, spreading the sugary sweet batter over your lower lip.

you squeaked, unable to look anywhere but his bare face, rugged and handsome in the low light.

“may i?” he asked, eyes flitting down to your lips, and you couldn’t even nod in his hold, just a low, breathy yes on your lips that he swallowed, tongue sucking the traces of batter on your lips.

you whimpered into his mouth, clutching at his shirt as he angled your head with a soft touch, sliding his hand on your jaw to your neck, just resting there. that spurred on a familiar burn in your stomach, and you squirmed in his hold.

when he leaned back, you were breathless and panting with flushed cheeks.

“sweet,” he rasped, like he was approving the taste as he licked over his lips.

from that point on, you didn’t really remember how you got to your bedroom, Simon’s hands edging up the hem of your dress beneath him, knuckles drawing a warm trail up to your hips as he sucked on the skin of your neck.

the only thing you could do was whine and squirm under his weight, legs and arms pinning you down as he did what he liked, giving you sweet kisses that made you feel all hazy.

you watched his head dip beneath the fabric of your dress and you gasped when you felt his lips against your thighs, skipping where you needed him most, and then against your stomach and the flesh of your breasts.

and all throughout the pleasurable haze, your fingers curled into the sheets, nails digging into the bed because you were beyond nervous.

you knew this would happen eventually—that Simon would end up in your bed or the other way around. kissing him was a dream. having him caging you against the bed with his heady weight was a dream.

sliding a hand over his back, his rushed movements slowed against your skin, taking the time to suck carefully around your pebbled nipples that had your hips bucking up with a whimper.

your mind spun. but you were so nervous.

it was all you could think about as he descended back down between your thighs, both of his big arms curling around your thighs to lock you in place against the bed.

words rung your mind loud and clear—what the hell is wrong with you?

when Simon dipped a thumb beneath the top of your panties, the words shook you again.

what the hell is wrong with you?

you hadn’t even noticed how still and quiet you had grown until his head perked up between your thighs, pupils blown wide. he swiped a thumb over the soaking entrance of your panties, drawing a whimper from your throat.

“what is it?” he asked, voice so throaty and rough that you shivered with want. you had wanted this for so long.

“nothing,” you whispered, tugging his head back down between your thighs, but he didn’t budge, frowning at you.

“tell me,” he probed, “m’not touchin’ you if you don’t, sweet thing.”

sweet thing.

swallowing hard, you shifted against the bed. “m’just nervous.”

“yeah?” he stroked the plush, soft skin of your inner thigh, before pressing his lips to it. “don’t worry. i’ll make you feel good.”

you nodded, biting down on your lip, though his words didn’t quell any of the raging anxiety thrumming within your chest, even when he kissed the wet fabric stretched over your cunt, nosing through your folds and his hot breath against you.

lifting up your hips with ease, he tugged a pillow beneath you.

“comfy?” he asked, hooking two fingers beneath your panties and sliding it down your thighs.

“uh-huh,” you gasped, back arching when he ducked between your legs and pressed the pink muscle of his tongue flat against your cunt.

“good,” he grunted against you, pecking your swollen clit before swirling his tongue around it, and building a steady, delicious pace that had you hiccuping moans.

your hands snaked through his hair, gripping the blonde curls tight and pulling, startling when he groaned in response, the tremors going straight from the back of his throat and into your clit.

you ground against his face and he purred in approval. “tha’s it, sweet thing.”

you took the pleasure and rode it, pushing yourself further and further to the edge, or at least you thought you were, seeing no end in sight for the sensations wracking your body. every passing moment felt too long, and you could practically feel the irritation roiling off Simon in waves.

even though you couldn’t see his face, just could hear his soft noises of approval against your cunt, it was like you knew he was growing impatient.

frustrated, you huffed a whine, that anxiety in your chest squashing half the pleasurable experience. he reached up and pressed down on the lower part of your tummy, intensifying it all over again, making you gasp as your head fell back.

“relax,” he mumbled, playing with your clit as he pressed his tongue into your cunt, humming as he tasted you.

it was overwhelming. too overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the tears that pricked up in your eyes as you were torn between finishing and feeling good and pleasing Simon and—

a little sob broke from your throat, and he went still between your legs.

you covered your face with your hands, digging your palms into your eyes and muffled the sounds falling from your lips.

why were you crying?

brows pinched together, you scrunched up your face. “sorry, sorry, just keep going—”

you cut off when a sob choked your throat, refusing to look at Simon and withering when he stayed silent, feeling really fucking stupid as you just cried in the bed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whimpered, feeling him tug your dress back down over your thighs and hike your panties back up your hips.

you expected him to leave, ready to feel the weight of him against you on the bed disappear, and his heavy footsteps through the apartment, then the slam of the door behind him.

and you did—the dip in the bed lifted and you heard his footsteps edge around the bed.

then, you gasped when he slid into the bed beside you, arm circling beneath your waist and pulling you flush to his chest, breath right against your ear.

“what’s wrong, sweet thing?” he sighed, though it didn’t sound irritated, just tired as he sunk into the bed beside you.

your breath stilled, the cries dying in your throat as you twisted to look back at him. his gaze was soft as he peered over your shoulder, squeezing you between both arms.

“what?” you croaked, and he leaned over you to press a kiss to your cheek, squishing you into the bed.

“what’s wrong?” he repeated, thumb drawing circles against your clothed tummy.

“nothing,” you said, and he made a low noise of disapproval, pressing his face against the side of your head.

clutching at his arms holding your waist, caging you to him, you choked out the words.

“i just…” you turned your head from him, tears spilling from your eyes and onto the sheets. “i wanna be good for you.”

he hummed against your ear, squeezing you tighter. “you are so good for me, love.”

“no, i meant…” you huffed, sniffling with a frustrated sound in the back of your throat.

“i take too long,” you squeaked, avoiding his eyes. “there’s something wrong with me.”

a sob pierced your chest. “i think i’m broken.”

you turned in his arms and buried your face in his chest, embarrassed as you soaked his shirt with tears, muffled the sharp noises of your throat against his solid body. he curled around you, hand rubbing down your back.

“who put those ideas in your pretty head?”

his voice was deceptively soft, though you heard the threat that lay under it, and you shivered.

“my ex boyfriend.”

his body went tense against you.

“look at me luvie.”

you lifted your head and let him kiss you, tasting salty and sweet from the slick of you still in his mouth, as he brushed away the tears on your face.

when he pulled back and you looked over the curves of his face, the depth of his dark eyes, you admitted to him softly, “i don’t want you to leave me.”

it was such a small whimper that you don’t think he would’ve heard you, but from the way his face crunched into a frown you knew that he had.

“m’not going anywhere,” he promised, pushing the hair from your forehead. “m’right here.”

you whimpered, pulling him back down for a kiss that was wet and hot, teeth knocking against yours when he pressed you further into the bed.

“lemme make you feel good,” he whispered, and you clutched at his arm wound tight around your waist, the other creeping up to cup your breast.

“please,” you whimpered, and he hummed into your lips.

“when’s the last time you touched yourself?” he asked, lips trailing down to your neck, his large hand edging down to brush over your pelvis.

“long time,” you squeaked, gasping when his hand snuck beneath your dress, rucking it up so it pooled around your waist.

“c-can’t do it myself,” you admitted, screwing your eyes shut when his fingers slipped beneath the band of your panties. “doesn’t feel good.”

“yeah? bet your ex couldn’t make you feel good either,” he mumbled, either to you or yourself you couldn’t tell, mind dizzy and somewhere up high when his forefinger gently brushed over the shell of your clit. “bet your he didn’t even know how to touch a woman. how to make her cum.”

you whimpered, hips bucking into his hand, and you could feel him smile against your neck.

“s’okay, baby. i’ll make you cum.”

his fingers circled your swollen clit, other hand fondling the sensitive plush of your tits. as you squirmed against his touch, little breathy noises leaving your lips, you could feel his hard cock pressing into the curve of your ass. you whimpered at the sheer size of it.

“please, Simon,” you gasped, clutching at his wrist as he played and flicked at your clit, speeding up then slowing down and dragging you through a slew of different body wracking sensations, leaving you so whiney and sensitive that your thighs started to shake and twitch.

your ex boyfriend had never given you so much attention like this—just honing in on his own pleasure, degrading you when you tried to chase your own. it became something you dreaded. something you didn’t want and forced yourself through, faking orgasms and artificial, pitched moans.

it was so different from Simon that you felt delirious, blissed out as real, loud whines broke through your throat, riding his hand just wanting more and more.

“more,” you sobbed, burying your face into the sheets, jolting when he played and pinched at your swollen nipples.

“want you to cum on my hand first, sweet thing,” he whispered, and you almost cried real tears.

he huffed a laugh into your ear.

“feel that good?” he cooed, and you nodded against the sheets, wiggling your hips in his hand.

“c-can’t,” you whined, shivering when he made a noise of disapproval.

“yes you can,” he said, low and throaty, licking over your ear. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby. i can play with this pretty cunt all night.”

you moaned, grinding down into his hand, eyes rolling back into your head as he abused your clit, crushing it beneath his fingers.

“you’re gonna cum on my hand, and then i’m gonna stretch you out with my fingers, yeah? then you’re gonna cum on my fingers, and i’m gonna fuck two more orgasms out of you. how does that sound, sweet thing?”

“Simon—” you choked, whole body going still when you finally reached a sharp peak, shaking and twitching and moaning softly through your whole orgasm that made you see a blinding white.

he groaned in your ear, so filled with pleasure it sounded like he came alongside you.

“there you go, baby, good girl. so good f’me.”

your hearing felt muffled when you resurfaced, blinking your eyes open, sleepy and muscles lax against the bed. he was petting at your naval, peppering little kisses and kitten licks along your neck and shoulders.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, luvie,” he whispered in your ear, making a shiver slither down your spine.

“mhmm,” was all you could get out, pliable as he slipped from your side and moved you to your back, tipping your knees open as he dove between your legs.

you looked down, watching him drink up the cum from your pussy, slurping loudly and sucking on your twitchy clit, your hips squirming in his hold.

“so sweet,” he practically growled, and you whined in response, trying to push his head away.

when he finally relented, he sat back, licking over his lips before tugging the shirt over his head. in the dim lighting, you could see scars littered over him, naval blessed with dark hair and a toned stomach that made your mouth water.

“think you can do that four more times, baby?”

when you shook your head, he only smirked, crawling back over you and pressing the crotch of his fatigues against your sopping pussy, grinding his painfully hard, big cock against your aching entrance.

“yes you can,” he said, low and throaty. “m’gonna make you, sweet thing. you’re gonna be coming on this cock all night long.”

taglist: @ivybeeloved

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

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hoseoksluna · 1 month

Text

LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for.

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift.

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too.

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed.

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight.

You couldn’t.

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair.

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words.

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely.

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis.

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed.

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.”

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it.

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.”

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable.

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?”

You exhaled, he inhaled.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek.

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in.

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.”

Your body panics, but you will it to relax.

“Does that come with the premium subscription?”

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps.

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms.

“I get to take Bam?”

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?”

Probably not. Definitely not.

“But what about Bam?”

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words.

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.”

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell.

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it.

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.”

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly.

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows.

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead.

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it.

Jungkook groans.

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity.

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back.

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body.

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers.

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline.

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it.

You want him.

It began with a ring and ended right here.

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled.

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss.

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t.

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago.

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you.

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper.

Jungkook grips your waist hard.

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy.

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples.

“Kiss me, then.”

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth.

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step.

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.”

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles.

“Bam, house.”

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that.

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him.

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.”

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him.

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists.

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.”

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?”

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them.

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list.

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course.

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.”

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting.

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?”

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact.

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?”

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties.

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.”

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.”

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.”

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself.

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him.

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears.

No attachment, no liking.

Just sex.

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm.

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted.

You broke him.

And now you have to face the repercussions.

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal.

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all.

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.”

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have.

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it.

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break.

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in.

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm.

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is.

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid.

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening.

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning.

A lump forms in your throat.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship.

Flowery or deceitful?

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.”

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you.

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps.

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.”

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.”

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened.

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum.

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him.

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun.

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin.

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing.

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself.

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long.

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?”

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice.

“Of course I trust you.”

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.”

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline.

“Are you scared?”

You’re an empty canvas.

“Not anymore.”

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?”

“Okay.”

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?”

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.”

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt.

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set.

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy.

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks.

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.”

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie.

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?”

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod.

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child.

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs.

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red.

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them.

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach.

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?”

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.”

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?”

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy.

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features.

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good.

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.”

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens.

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs.

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you.

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear. “How do you touch yourself?”

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat.

Jungkook sees you.

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer.

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind.

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax.

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side.

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise.

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips.

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you.

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.”

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you.

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around.

“Feels good, baby?”

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.”

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.”

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring.

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?”

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted.

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff.

“Did so well for me.”

The whisper takes you back and you awake.

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good.

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?”

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change.

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.”

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth.

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy.

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks.

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration.

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.”

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is.

Musk, vanilla, wood.

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout.

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew.

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.”

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?”

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do.

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos.

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts.

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully.

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?”

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.”

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number.

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?”

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.”

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare.

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him.

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?”

You nod. “So bad.”

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough.

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?”

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.”

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?”

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.”

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance.

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth.

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him.

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again.

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go.

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge.

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore.

Neither, evidently, can he.

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands.

So vulnerable.

You ache.

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head.

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth.

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets.

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny.

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head.

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.”

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan.

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind.

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin.

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?”

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it.

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans.

“Talk to me.”

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk.

He stares you down.

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling.

“I won’t play with you, then.”

Panic. “No.”

He cocks a brow at you. “No?”

Silence.

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm.

“Jungkook.”

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs.

“Beg.”

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you.

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

You groan in frustration.

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.”

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it.

“Where?”

A challenge. Your throat dries up.

“There.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that.

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.”

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that.

“Lick my clit, please.”

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.

“Like this?”

You choke out a moan.

“Yes, please.”

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?”

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy.

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.”

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you.

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens.

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you.

Daddy and little girl.

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls.

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror.

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.”

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell.

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?”

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin.

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens.

“But what if it doesn’t fit?”

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake.

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.”

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected.

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him.

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow.

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head.

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him.

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.”

You nod, trusting him.

He pecks you. Smiles.

“How many orgasms are we at?”

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?”

“You obliterated my expectations.”

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.”

You blush, eyes twinkling.

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.”

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad.

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness.

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss.

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel.

“I don’t stop coming.”

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?”

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?”

You scoff. “Just one.”

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?”

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently.

He didn’t break his promise.

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides.

And there you feel it.

The sensation unlike any other.

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?”

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms.

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.”

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come.

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you.

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?”

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep.

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much.

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.”

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam.

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.”

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.”

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak.

“Please, come for me.”

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?”

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.”

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat.

Jungkook grunts.

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.”

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length.

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all.

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way.

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all.

“Good girl. Good little princess.”

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?”

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes.

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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lacyslcver · 2 months

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YOU ARE IN LOVE ⎯⎯ OP81

One night, he wakes, strange look on his face, pauses then says, “you’re my best friend” and you knew what it was, he is in love.

OR IN WHICH, oscar piastri is head over heels for his best friend, though he keeps his feelings a secret. He wins his first race in F1 and after seeing her cheering him on in the crowd he can’t hide his affections any longer.

( oscar piastri x fem!reader)

a/n ; I don't think there's any tw's in this but lmk if there is pls!!

All he could hear was his heartbeat in his helmet; it flooded his ears like static on a radio. After getting out of the car without a thought in his head, he stepped onto the car in front of the halo putting both of his arms into the air.

Adrenaline flooded his senses, his colorful helmet shined under the night race lights. The cheers were overwhelmingly loud as each voice blended together into the sea of people.

Subconsciously so, his ears searched for one voice in particular, one that was soft and comforting. The one he’d share a laugh with until three in morning. Or would tease him inexplicably. But the voice was stirred in with the rest.

Oscar stepped down from the car, and the first thing he did was run into the ocean of papaya. Many hands covered him, patting his back or helmet hearing many compliments on his win. After a minute or so of drowning himself in the praise and affection from his team he stepped away removing his helmet and placing it on a pedestal.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, it staying in place as he did so. A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned, seeing a man in a matching suit who pulled him into a hug. “Mate you did great.” He complimented, his voice directly in his ear.

The Australian didn’t realize how truly speechless he was until someone directly spoke to him. The words formed in his throat but never made it out of his mouth.

Lando pulled away with a light two taps on his back. “Thanks, maybe not pelting me with champagne could be a good job present.” Oscar jokes.

The Brit lets out a small laugh and shakes his head, “Oh c'mon you need the full podium experience-” Oscar’s attention on Lando was cut off, the voice.

The one he’d scanned for, moments before the voice had made itself known. She shouted his name from behind the short fence with the rest of the crowd desperately trying to get the man she’d known for most of her life’s attention. Oscar’s eyes searched the crowd, until they found her, he could’ve picked her out in any crowd his entire being always seemed drawn to her.

“Oscar!” His best friend. The only one he’s ever really known. Always supporting him, even today adorning herself in all papaya wearing a jersey he’d known for a fact had a huge eighty-one on the back (and might’ve been stolen from his closet), all for him.

Oscar rushed over, as soon as he’d spotted her after the race, he just knew he needed her in the moment. The calm, composedness of his being suddenly dissolved into the smokey air. Still with a small fence between them he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her into a tight hug. Her arms naturally floated around his neck, they fit together perfectly like two puzzle pieces made just for one another. Camera flashes flooded their sudden embrace, and he lightly lifted her into the air as he tightened their hold on one another. They could’ve done the whole podium ceremony, everyone could have gone home and Oscar would’ve stayed here with his arms around her always.

“You did so well today.” Her voice was soft, the words only meant for him. She only wanted him to know how proud she was of him. How much her heart raced as he crossed the checkered flag, and how much support she’d carried with her for him through everything.

His impulsiveness took over as soon as he heard her speak, he wasn’t thinking about anything in that moment, not the cameras, the thousands of people that surrounded the pair, and certainly not the feelings he carried for her for many years; the feelings he kept deep down for too long, way too long. He only thought of her, the way her soft voice tickled against his skin and the flush it brought to his already red cheeks.

Placing a delicate but firm hand on her cheek which she covered with her own hand, her cheeks turning a light and kind shade of pink and a gentle smile formed from her lips. The lips Oscar just happened to notice how pink and heart shaped they’d been and how soft they looked compared to his own chapped ones.

Oscar slightly looked down and she’d looked up at him, her eyes seemed as if they were looking into him, as if she could’ve read his thoughts. Standing like this for a second, there was a moment where the Australian had contemplated, was he going to possibly ruin a friendship over his own feelings? Before he could even think about not doing it, her eyelashes fluttered warm and innocent and he filled the gap between them.

They were perfectly made for one another. They moved in sync, and she’d tasted of an orange mocktail and strawberry chapstick and everything that's made her, her. His thumb lightly stroked her cheek, and his arm snaked around her waist holding her tightly.

Both her arms ended up around his neck, smiling sweetly into the kiss and giggled lightly into the Aussies mouth. Not hearing the reactions from the crowd surrounding them.

When Oscar pulled away they’d both missed the warmth and comfort of one another. But realization hit him like a tidal wave, remembering all of his actions so clearly except for how her arms fit so perfectly around him, and the way she’d smiled at his affections.

His hand removed itself from her waist and mind started to race and he pictured missed calls, a missing eighty-one jersey in the crowd, losing the praise of a voice that motivated him to be better. He’d completely zoned out at this point and she’d used her hand placing it back on his freckled cheek and directing him to look at her. Of course she’d know what he was thinking.

She always did.

She’d looked up at him, a small glint in her eyes, that made Oscar wanna kiss her all over again but he held back, fear filling his chest so tightly he’d felt like he’d choke on it. He’d race cars at 300km/h without as much fear as he felt now.

Placing a hand on his other cheek, she stood on her tippy toes reaching his lips giving them a light peck. Her way of saying everything was gonna be okay. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red and his arms comfortably made its way back around her waist and his hand slid up her back.

She looked up at him, anticipating him to make a move. Though she was impatient, she pulled his racing suit collar down and her lips landed on his once again. He gasped in between his lips, a small surprise of her sudden affection.

“I think I’ve always loved you.” He whispered into her mouth in between kisses, her heart shaped lips formed in a smile against his.

She pulled away, lightly biting his bottom lip, “you think I didn’t?” She grinned a light giggle leaving her lips.

It was like a candle had been relit in Oscar’s head, a candle that flamed only for her. A flame that reminded him how much he needed her, how much he’d been needing her. His arms tightened around her almost possessively so, he reveled in the taste and feeling of her, and how she finally knew that most of him was hers.

a/n ; my first f1 one shot! I'm really proud ngl and it's as cute as I was hoping! hope ya'll enjoy!

tags ; @whitcferrari @miguelasdr @lcvelctters @cedarbcws

#friends to lovers is everything to me #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris #f1 fic #formula one fic #formula one fanfiction

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blurboki · 9 months

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chan who fucks your cunt with his fingers in the mirror after you tell him you have low self esteem. he’d assure you that you’re absolutely gorgeous and so unbelievably deserving of love, but if you really just can’t get it, he has no problem showing you.

so now, legs spread so pretty for him in front of your mirror, he takes his time tracing your folds, fingers toying with your sensitive clit while you twitch in between his legs.

he would force you to watch yourself, watch his veiny hands trail down, big fingers massaging the skin of your thighs before delving into your wetness and staying there, not moving.

you’re losing your mind, so needy for him you can’t think straight. clawing at his forearm, you choke a mewl, locking eyes with him through your reflection.

predatory, predatory as he stares back at you, gaze flitting down to your stretched cunt then to your eyes again like he could swallow you whole. you think you’d be okay with that right now.

“chan- chris- move, i need you to move..” you breathe shallowly, head leaning back against his shoulder to cry a broken moan as as he moved, rubbing your gummy walls just enough until-

he stopped. again.

“fuckkk.” you drawl out, seconds away from tears. what he wants you’re not sure, maybe to watch you beg. you’d be willing.

“look. look at yourself and,” other hand forcing your head forward to watch him disappear in your shamelessly drooling cunt, he presses his tongue against his teeth, feeling as overwhelmed as you from the sight and sounds alone.

“tell me you aren’t the prettiest thing in the fucking universe, ‘made for me my love,” he voices, thumb sneaking up to your chin to find its way in your mouth, pressing on your tongue to admire the glossiness of your eyes—dissolving into the pleasure he provides.

“oh oh shit yes, yes, yes.” delicately littering the skin below your ear with open-mouthed kisses, the way your moans become higher pitched tell him you’re not far from release, calling out his name like a mantra.

your head falls back against his shoulder, nearly screaming as thunderous waves of euphoria pass through you, setting your veins ablaze with electricity. he stays there, perched right against your neck, whispering praises as if he didn’t have you crying his name.

“now,” he quietly uttered, soaking up your mewl when he pulled out, fingers drenched in your essence and chest shaking to catch your breath.

just then, you feel it, the painfully apparent tent in his sweats.

“what’re we gonna do about this, hm?”

blurboki, july 2023 ©

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fangswbenefits · 5 months

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Pointy Ears

Summary: You accidentally find just how sensitive Astarion is when it comes to a certain part of his body…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Sub-ish Astarion. Ear sensitivity. Blood drinking. Fangs. Astarion being a whimpering mess. He's also a big shooter (idk if there is a more accurate terminology in fanfiction haha). Handjob. Cumplay. Praise kink. Edging (if you squint). Nipple play.

Word count: 1.8k

You could feel Astarion was nearly done, as your fingers raked across his scalp and through unruly curls, the warmth of your blood spreading gradually across his skin.

He was comfortably nestled between your legs, occasionally bucking his hips into you as his cock hardened with each passing second.

Even as your vision began to blur, the pleasure vastly overcame the impending sense of dread. After all, he could easily send you over the edge between life and death if he lacked the restraint to stop himself.

Your other hand caressed the lukewarm skin of his arm and traveled up to his neck, where you could feel his throat shift rhythmically under your touch as he downed mouthfuls of your blood.

“Astarion…” you whimpered faintly, as life slipped from you dangerously fast.

He grunted once but didn't budge.

Bringing your hand to his face, you felt a growing wave of panic take over.

He had never gone too far.

But dizziness and chilling shivers quickly enveloped your body, rendering you nearly helpless.

“Astarion…”

He rolled his hips into you but kept his mouth firmly latched onto your neck, his concentration never wavering.

With eyes pressed shut, your fingers reached up until they faintly brushed past the tip of his ear.

And then he instantly froze.

As if stung by some unseen entity, he quickly pulled back from you, wide-eyed and lips stained with blood.

“What's wrong?”

He reached out for the scroll of Lesser Restoration on the bedside table and placed it in your hand before rolling off of you and onto his back.

You uttered quick words and watched as the piece of paper dissolved into thin air, quickly feeling your life force being restored as warmth and vigour sprawled along your body once again.

“Astarion?”

He had his eyes closed shut, and you watched as his hand hurriedly made its way to unlace the front of his trousers, alleviating the constricted erection.

Had you done something wrong?

He didn't seem troubled or uncomfortable, and merely let out a sigh of pure relief as he freed his cock.

“Do that again. Please.”

You arched an eyebrow as you rolled on your side, utterly confused. “Do… what?”

“My ear… touch it…”

Oh?

Your eyes landed on his flushed, pointy ear, and you proceeded to give the sharp edge a tentative caress with the pad of your thumb.

His lips parted with a soft gasp and he arched his back ever so slightly.

This was new.

Your gaze shifted to his lower half, noticing how his hardened cock twitched as you brushed the warm skin of his ear.

Seeing his cock fully hardened and with this faint blush to it thanks to your own blood coursing through his body, never failed to send the most delicious jolts of pleasure between your legs, effectively igniting a gentle throb.

“Does that feel good?” You cooed, staring back at his face again as he let out a few whimpers.

“Ridiculously good.”

That was all the incentive you needed, bringing your forefinger to his ear and giving it a soft squeeze between your thumb.

“Gods…”

This time, he rolled his hips, and you could only stare in complete awe as the first beads of precum began to drip from the tip.

You involuntarily licked your lips and lowered your head to rest on his unmoving bare chest.

He felt cozily warm from having fed on you and couldn't help but to reach down with your other hand, tracing a finger along a single bulging and thick vein that spread along his cock.

Your feather-like touches kept drawing out the most beautiful whimpers and gasps from him.

His mouth watering cock was always so responsive to your touch, that you found yourself grinding your hips instinctively against him.

A needy moan parted your lips slightly at the mesmerising sight of a single string of precum bridging the flushed tip of his cock to his lower abdomen, and beginning to pool on his skin as a few droplets threatened to spill down.

Once again, you ran your finger along the protruding underside of his length, too entranced with how it twitched so eagerly for you.

Unsurprisingly, Astarion reached down with one hand, wanting to wrap his fingers around his length, but you intercepted him halfway through.

“Allow me, lover.” You whispered sweetly, lifting your head to take a look at him.

As expected, he looked positively ethereal; his face tinted with the faintest blush and his half-hooded crimson eyes set on you.

“You don't have to.”

You shifted higher, letting go of his hand, which he dropped to his side, and you leaned in until your lips brushed against the pointy edge of his ear.

“Do you want me to?”

He chuckled lowly. “If I want you to pleasure me? What a silly question, darling.”

You smiled at his bluntness before darting out your tongue to join your fingers.

Another guttural groan escaped his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut once again.

Leaning back, you positioned yourself to sit next to him, wanting to keep your focus on both his cock and ear.

His eyes flew open, and he began to prop himself on one elbow and hand reaching out for your trousers, clearly trying to be the one setting the pace.

But you shoved him back with a chuckle. “Just lay back and allow me to take care of you.”

He arched an elegant brow at you.

He was too used to being the one taking the lead. It was instinctive for him to have control over each other's pleasure.

But you wanted him to lose himself in the moment, not having to concern himself with anything but his own bliss.

“Pretty,” you said truthfully as his eyelids nearly dropped when you brushed a finger along his tip. “So pretty…”

He immediately whimpered, lust-blown eyes never leaving yours. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

Gods…

Astarion was truly a natural at leaving you speechless with his words.

You kept the gentle and unwavering caresses along his sensitive ear.

As you shifted your gaze, you noticed the pool of precum on his lower abdomen already overflowing, droplets rolling down his skin.

Instinctively, you swiped two fingers to collect some of it, and began spreading them along his cock, earning a hiss of approval.

“You delectable little vixen.” He groaned out with a few rolls of his hips.

The swell between your legs throbbed viciously from his praise, and it had you wrapping your fingers around him.

His own wetness aided you in your initial strokes, feeling the bulging veins under your touch caving in momentarily before filling up with your blood once more.

You could get used to having Astarion like this for eternity.

Just too lost in genuine pleasure and lust.

Trusting you to guide him to unheard of heights and fully letting go.

The pace was set.

The perfect balance between steadiness and tightness, and more than enough to have him jerk his hips upwards as he fucked your hand.

You reckoned he wouldn't last long given how his whimpers intensified each time you applied the slightest pressure to the shell of his ear.

Suddenly, he moved one hand to your chest, and you gave him a disapproving pout, not wanting him to take over.

But…

“Let me see them…”

His words came out laced with desire and whimpers, eyes set on your eyes as the hint of a plea made you gasp.

You kept the pace on his cock as his experienced fingers tugged at the lacing of your shirt. He worked his way down agonisingly slow, chills spreading throughout your body as more and more of your skin was exposed to his gaze.

He halted once he found what he was looking for.

With a soft tug, he moved the fabric out of the way, your swaying breasts in full view.

A violent jolt of pleasure nearly has you halt at once, too taken aback by the eroticism of all of it.

“Keep going, darling…” he urged, honey dripping from his words. “You can grip it tighter, can't you?”

Gods above…

He then brushed his thumb across a hardened nipple and your mouth fell open in a strained gasp.

Your breasts moved in unison with the pace on his cock, lewd sounds echoing around the room.

You had to bite down hard on your lip to muffle the moan stuck in your throat.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted disapprovingly, his thumb releasing the trapped lip and moving to press down on your chin to pry your mouth open. “Let me hear those sweet moans.”

It annoyed you how he was so quick to reverse the roles and how easily you fell for his traps.

But you weren't ready to let him win just yet.

"Maybe you shouldn't make such demands when I have you in the palm of my hand - quite literally."

The glaring pun made him scowl.

You offered a devious smile instead.

Then, you increased the pressure on his ear, and the effect nearly had you chuckle viciously at the sight of him immediately crumbling down, back pressed flat against the mattress again.

“Gods!”

The whine of frustration mixed with a moan let you know you were victorious in having him right where you wanted.

His hips snapped more aggressively into you as you squeezed him even tighter.

He was so close.

There was something so incredibly hypnotic about having this man coming undone for you.

Because of you.

You couldn't think of a more effective ego-booster.

So by the time he reached his peak, you could only glare in utmost wonder as you felt his cock twitch violently under your palm as the first spurts of cum shot out, reaching as far as his chest - one even reaching his neck.

Your mouth fell open.

He had balled his fists, gripping the bedsheets so fiercely as he rode out the untameable wave of pleasure. His head was thrown back as he arched and shuddered, profanities spilling from his pretty lips.

And the sound of fabric tearing echoed in the room.

Oh.

You aided his cock as best you could, squeezing the final drops of cum, mesmerised by the amount of thick liquid that now covered him.

Still driven by your own unrequited pleasure, you leaned to swipe your tongue across his nipple, collecting as much as you could.

His hand moved to the back of your head, silently urging you.

It only took a couple of swipes to gather enough cum to pool on your tongue.

Astarion's half-hooded eyes met yours. “Does it taste good?”

With the most sultry look you could conjure, you swung your leg over his torso, effectively straddling him as your mouth hovered over his.

“You tell me.”

He furrowed his brows inquisitively.

And you promptly took his lips in yours, which he eagerly parted. You seized the opportunity to push your tongue against his, allowing the liquid to drip down.

He groaned as he tasted himself on you, deepening the searing kiss, both hands on your hips, grounding you.

Yes.

You could definitely get used to this.

Masterlist

#astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x mc #astarion scenario

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toast-on-dandelioms · 4 months

Text

Just Another Neglected Story

Part 3

You can find part 1 and part 2 here!

(For this part I am using they/them to talk about reader/you, but if you know a way to talk about reader without using you or they/them please tell me!)

Months passed and Spider was now famous amongst Gotham, known for stopping small gangs that bothered the neighbourhood but also helped them go back to school or find a job.

Spider was mostly famous for not immediately sending people to jail like most vigilantes, they helped if they could and didn't immediately fight and hurt people.

And Batman liked it, he wanted to know who was the person behind the mask, and to finally meet the famous Spider so his kids will stop fangirl over them.

Plus, by the video footage found by Oracle, it seemed like Spider was very good at fighting and quickly capturing with a type of web shooter, with the webs that dissolved in an hour or two.

Bruce was more interested as days passed by but his information about Spider didn't increase, since Oracle could only find so much by asking and no one knew much about the vigilante except generic stuff that almost anyone knew.

His sons were also interested in Spider, as they saw the vigilante as someone similar to them by seeing them fight to their moves when swinging by with a web shooter.

It was like a mini version of them and it amazed them.

Dick was amazed at how good Spider was in gymnastics like him, giving him the need to go with them and just practice together since his brothers were flexible but not like him.

But Spider was, they were almost similar to Dick which fueled his interest even more. He wanted to practice tricks that he did in the circus with them.

He could finally bond with a shared interest with someone and not seem weird.

Jason was interested at how good they were at fighting and sometimes using a gun if the enemy had one.

He saw how quick they were at disarming someone with a gun and using it against them, even if they were slightly injured to which he would always pay a visit to the person who hurt them in prison.

After all, they don't deserve to live if they dare to hurt Spider, even if it was just a scratch.

Tim was interested to their gadgets and especially how they could walk on walls, wanting to know everything about them and see if they use gadgets like them and Batman or if they're a metahuman.

He saw how strong they were, especially when they held a bus full of children that was almost falling off a bridge, while Superman was fighting a supervillain and couldn't come to their aid immediately.

Even though he found out who was Batman as a kid, Spider was a cryptic for him. Even with the help of Oracle he couldn't find anything useful.

And it was starting to drive him insane from the need of knowing everything about them.

And last, but not least.

Damian saw them being an inexperienced fighter but a resourceful one, seeing how they used the walls and everything they could find as a weapon if it helped.

He wanted to spar with them once, having the strange need to help them improve and also show off how good he was at fighting, wanting to be praised by them.

He didn't even know why since he never needed any praise from any of his brothers or his father, but he desired to be praised by that person.

The funny thing is that not one of them knew the real voice of Spider, as the vigilante used a voice modulator to sound different and distorted in the recordings that Oracle sent them regularly.

But even without knowing their real voice, the obsession that all of the batfam had just kept growing.

All of them wanted two to three things when they're gonna finally meet Spider for the first time:

• wanting to hear their real voice

• seeing who is hiding behind the mask

• recruit them to work with them as a vigilante and maybe even live with them at the Mansion.

But alas, whenever they tried to get to them, when they were done dealing with anything, the vigilante was always gone or immediately walked away using the walls.

To which Batman and all his sons tried different methods but the vigilante was always ready, avoiding their attemps to talk and never even giving them a word.

Usually small vigilantes, in the eyes of Batman, were always so eager to be acknowledged by such famous vigilante like him, but Spider was different.

Spider hated the attention they were getting and it was obvious, even though the mask didn't really make it see but their movements clearly showed frustration.

Or at least, they hated the attention they got from the batfam. Especially Batman and Damian, they avoided them the most.

Plus the middle finger they always did whenever they knew a security camera was on them was the cherry on top. It's like they knew that Batman was watching them and wanted to told him to fuck off.

But spiders can't hide forever can they? After some time, everything gets found.

And that's what happened that fateful night for the Batfamily, as they finally managed to locate where Spider usually hang out.

It was a bit difficult since Spider always moves after a week or two, maybe less if found out but this time they made sure to be more ninja-like.

They also got the help from Duke with his ability, just to make sure it was the right spot from seeing what happened in the past hours of the day.

Batman, even though he didn't want to, also asked for Superman's help, just to make sure he could catch Spider if they tried to escape.

He preferred to have all bases covered, just to be safe than sorry. Even though it did hurt his pride to ask Superman for help.

They all waited in the dark, knowing Spider usually comes to relax after a few hours of patrolling and helping around the streets.

Batman made the signal to stay silent when he heard the noise of the webs sticking to something and slinging around, waiting in silence with everyone with anticipation.

He stared in silence when Spider landed on the roof of the building, making a small noise when he saw Spider starting to take off the mask.

(Now it's reader/your pov now)

You stopped when your spider senses tingled, making you look around suspiciously and letting go of the hem of your mask.

You noticed many figures on the dark parts of the rooftop thanks to your heightened sight (?) and sighed, activating the voice modulator in your mask, doing that just to not give them any leads to your civilian identity.

You didn't know if they were enemies that were mad that you sent them to prison or someone they knew, so your guard was already high.

You stared at the dark parts before using your webs to capture one, thinking it was gonna be a criminal wrapped around your webs but just imagine the surprise when you saw that it was Red Robin.

You immediately knew what was going on, especially when you saw Superman flying towards you so you raised your hands in defeat, knowing you couldn't possibly fight against trained vigilantes, plus Batman and Superman.

You got down and freed Red Robin from your webs, using a pair of scissors you had in your bag pack that you always carry around in case you accidentally hit someone innocent with your webs.

You got up after finally finishing freeing Red Robin from the webs you wrapped him into, patting him on the hair out of habit of doing that with small kids you accidentally wrap in your webs.

You never hurt any kids, it's just that they accidentally got trapped in the webs and you had to free them and calm them down.

You looked up to see Batman in front of you, a bit creeped out at how silent he was since even your heightened hearing couldn't hear him. It was like he floated like Superman, but you knew that didn't happen.

You glared at him, a bit glad that your mask couldn't show your expressions, so they couldn't read them and use your own emotions against you.

You refused to give him or any of his sons something to use as leverage to manipulate you or making you think they actually wanted to spend time with you.

You started to get annoyed at the silence, especially since you just wanted them to go away, so you just started the annoying conversation that you hoped to avoid.

You also knew what they wanted, it was obvious since not one of them even called out your name so you knew they didn't know who you were behind the mask.

They were interested in Spider, the formidable vigilante and not interested in (Y/N), the forgotten child of Bruce Wayne.

"What do you want Batman? I don't think I am a criminal, so why are you bothering me?" you ask annoyed, the voice modulator making your voice distorted, so that it didn't even sound close to your real voice.

It was a nice add that you had to make, knowing that people would try to find out your real identity and usually voices are a clue, so modifying your voice with a device was the best thing to do.

Even though you never talked much when you were in your civilian clothes, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Batman stared at you with the usual scowl that Batman always has, also showing no emotions.

He then started talking in his gruff, you don't really know how to describe his voice, but you knew it sounded completely different from when he's Bruce Wayne.

But the hatred and annoyance that bubbled up when you heard his voice was immense, having to take all your control to not punch him in the face.

The only thing you were glad about is that he was someone that immediately gets to the point, not wanting to stay even five more minutes with him and his so called 'batfamily'.

"I want you to join me and the Robins, your strenght, fighting skills and your intelligence when you use the objects and space as an advantage would be extremely helpful when fighting villains like Joker" he started, stopping with a confused expression when he heard laughter.

He looked down and saw you laughing, even though it sounded wrong and distorted thanks to the modulator. You almost kneeled down from how much you were laughing at his proposal.

He didn't know what he said to make you laugh so he waited for you to calm down, looking at Nightwing and Red Hood to see if they knew why you were laughing.

You stopped after a bit and just looked at Batman with no emotion, not that the mask showed it.

Your voice also came out with no emotion, like you didn't even care about Batman and his proposal. "I shall refuse this proposal Batman, I am not strong enough to fight villains like the Joker. I am more interested in helping people with small problems and small thefts since the police will do nothing to help them."

You grabbed your backpack that you left on the ground and got ready to leave, stopping to look at Batman and the other robins/vigilantes with him.

"Please don't follow me, I do not want to be bothered by you trying to convince me to join a team. I work alone" and left, using the buildings to swing around the city to get to another rooftop to use as a place to relax.

(End of your pov)

What you didn't know was that when you left, the other vigilantes glared at Batman, since he didn't try to butter you up and manipulate you.

Plus, Damian was glaring at Tim for having the privilege of being patted on the head by Spider in person. He wanted to be petted too, he wanted to be acknowledged by Spider.

Dick was glaring at Bruce and actually started an argument with him, trying to understand why he didn't even try to use one of his many manipulation tactics to have Spider join them.

Superman just stayed on the sidelines, a bit surprised that someone hated Batman, since he always saw people admiring the man.

Except Hal, usually he says it without anyone asking that he hates Batman. But he doesn't count.

Well he left after a bit of watching Dick, Jason and Bruce arguing, following Spider and finding them on another rooftop.

He looked away when he saw that Spider didn't have their mask on, not wanting to see their real identity without their permission.

He also made a loud noise so Spider could notice him and put their mask back on. He looked after a bit and was glad that he didn't accidentally had a face reveal without permission.

He landed next to Spider and stayed silent for a bit, noticing how smaller and skinnier Spider was compared to Red Robin or even just Robin.

He hummed when he understood that Spider wouldn't start the conversation and looked at them with a smile.

"Sorry to bother you, I'm not here to ask you to join Batman or even the Justice League" he started, a bit surprised when he saw Spider relax a bit.

It was a strange sight, seeing that someone doesn't want to join the Justice League but he wouldn't judge. Everyone has their reasons and he can't change everyone's mind.

Spider looked at him, curious about what he wanted if not to scout them in the Justice League. They were also amazed at how Superman looked in real life, since Spider always saw him on TV or on the newspaper and never met him face to face.

Superman smiled at Spider, floating down and standing next to them on the rooftop of the building "want to grab something to eat and talk? I just want to know why you want to be a vigilante".

Spider just kept looking at him before nodding and walking on the side of the building nonchalantly, knowing Superman was following them.

They stopped at a hotdog stand, still walking on the side of another building and tapped the shoulder of the worker, scaring the poor man that was working there.

Superman immediately apologized about scaring the poor man when the man shrieked and let a hotdog fall from his hands, glaring at Spider who was obviously laughing silently by the way they trembled with their hands over their mouth.

He quickly paid for the food and apologised again for how he and Spider scared the poor man, wishing a good evening before following Spider to the rooftop while holding two hotdogs.

He stood on the rooftop and gave one to Spider, turning away to let them eat without worrying about their identity. He ate and waited until Spider gave him the ok, not wanting to lose their trust and make himself hated like Batman.

He turned around when he heard Spider tell him it was ok to do so, sitting down next to them and staying silent before starting the conversation.

(Red: Superman; Purple: Spider/You)

"Why don't you want to join the Justice League or Batman's team?"

"I work alone, having someone helping me is bothersome and a nuisance"

Superman just looked at the teen, a bit in shock by the way the voice modulator changed their voice so much but especially by how similar they were to Batman in his early days in the Justice League.

It was like seeing a teen clone of Batman, but wearing a more bright suit than the original one. But this time, the theme was spiders and not bats.

He didn't say anything about it tho, not wanting Spider to also hate him. He got up after a bit of them being in silence, knowing he had to go home.

"Well, it was nice to talk to you , hope we can do this again kid" he said, patting Spider on the head before flying away and going back to his family.

(Now it's going back to reader/you pov)

You stared at where Superman left, a bit confused as to why he was interested in you.

You did know that you started to get popular in Gotham, especially when you saw merch of you in small stores.

And yes, you bought something small. It was adorable and you couldn't resist it. No one would judge you, you saw Bruce wearing his own merch or having something with the signature bat symbol.

You shook your head and grabbed your backpack, making one last round to check that everyone was ok before leaving to go back to the manor.

You walked on the side of the villa, making sure to avoid any windows before sneaking inside your room.

You did have a close call when someone suddenly opened their window and smacked your arm, making you give out a small noise since it hurt a bit.

But you thanked whoever was out there that didn't hate you because the one who opened the window was a sleep deprived Tim Drake that just ignored the noise and went back to work.

You sighed in relief when you finally got in your room and took off the voice modulator since it covered most of your mouth and nose, making it a bit annoying to wear at times but you didn't complain.

You almost let out a scream when you finally noticed Alfred sitting on your bed but managed to contain yourself, not wanting to attract anyone to your room and see you wearing Spider's suit.

You took off your mask, knowing it was useless to try and hide your vigilante persona to him, a bit embarrassed that you followed the same path that your legal guardian currently walks on.

You looked down, thinking that Alfred was disappointed or angry that you were also a vigilante, waiting in silence for one of his lectures before flinching when you suddenly felt his hand on your head.

You looked up at him, confused as to why he wasn't angry but just his look of love and adoration he had for you, something you only saw in your mother eyes made you start to shake.

Years of neglect and loneliness just surfaced, making you start to slowly cry and cover your face, trying to hide the fact that you were crying.

But just by hearing Alfred whisper "it's ok, it's just me here, you can let it out" made you break down in tears, full on sobbing and bawling on his chest as you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

You didn't even know why you were crying, but after years of being ignored or hurt by the people you were supposed to call family, watching them enjoy a nice dinner all together without you and especially seeing them being a family while you were just left in the sidelines to never be acknowledged made you finally break.

You cried until you fell asleep in Alfred's arms, you didn't even move when he picked you up like it was nothing and put you in bed.

You also didn't know about the grim look in his face that he had while looking at you, and after he silently left the room you possibly couldn't know the next word he said.

What were those words?

"Maybe it's time I should get involved in this matter, I'm sorry (Y/N) but I can't stand by and watch you become your father. I shall help this family see your worth."

And this is the end for part 3! I managed to finish it in time for new year! If you have questions just ask and I will answer them!

Oh and please stop asking me to tag you, just comment it on the posts and I will tag you! (Oh and if I didn't tag you, it's not because I forgot but because sometimes it doesn't let me tag people)

Tag list

@kiyomi-uchiha777

@cattioo

@dreamsarenicer

@gaozorous-rex-blog

@mfnqueen1

@loserwithnofriends

@ratchetprime211

@mamapucket

@proffesorbunny

@definitely-not-sammie

@wardencatseeyou

@mottysith

@i-never-saw-snow

@mushroomstems

@that-bad-b1tch

@deathbynarcisstick

@readeraona

@sofiaangeldream

@wtvbabes

@missikkkj

@badussyussysstuff

@rainnyydaysworld

@keencoffeefox

#yandere imagines #male yandere #platonic yandere #yandere batman #yandere #yandere aesthetic #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #yandere dc x reader #gn reader

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jomarch-wannabe · 11 months

Text

Sold (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader)

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold's daughter!Reader

Synopsis: The coin lands on tails

Warnings: Smut 🔞(implied age gap, dubcon/noncon, virginity loss, p in v sex, rough sex, cursing, praise kink, sir kink, choking, overstimulation) Angst (anxiety, crying, manipulation, blood loss)

Author's note: I thought of this on a whim one day and went with it. Definitely a darker portrayal of Tommy.. read at your own discretion.

CH. ONE CH. TWO

——————————————————————————

“I’m gonna spin a coin for your yard Charlie.”

“You goin’ what?”

“If it’s heads, Abe here takes all this,” Tommy explained with an extended hand, “with my blessing.”

“Tommy!”

“And if it’s tails,” Tommy paused, flicking his eyes to Aberama's cocked brow. “I fuck your daughter Mr. Gold.”

His face fell stone cold at the proposition.

“What’ll it be?” Tommy asked with a smug expression, dragging a cigarette across his lips. “Heads or tails?”

“Heads.” Abbie spat, straightening his posture to assert dominance.

Tommy’s expression remained unchanged as he twirled the coin between his fingers before tossing it in the air, catching it on top of his hand.

His pale blue eyes glinted as he uncovered the coin, facing tails up. In an effort to contain his amusement his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicked up to Abe.

“A deal is a deal.” Abe coughed, adjusting the collar of his coat, clenching his jaw.

Tommy nodded in acknowledgement as his face cast aglow from the flame of his cigarette. Behind the orange glare you could faintly make out the edge of his lips tugging into a smirk.

——————————————————————————

Expensive shoes crunched lightly against the gravel of Thomas Shelby’s driveway as you exited your lift. Your breath hitched in nervousness as the car rolled away behind you, disappearing into the darkness.

With a few hesitant steps you made contact with the door, knocking lightly against the wood. After a few moments a maid named Frances let you in, granting your chilled limbs a satisfying warmth in the lit up foyer.

Her hands fell open out of habit, prepared for your coat. The fabric fell off your shoulders with the shrug of your arms, exposing your skin.

She smiled warmly as she received it, turning from you to place it on a rack. With her back to you, you were granted the privacy to unhide your expression. The heaviness of shame dragged the corners of your mouth into a frown.

She turned to you, attentive with her posture and eyes. “Are you here to see Charlie? A sitter perhaps?” Her brows raised in a sort of put on friendliness.

You blinked, thumbing the beads hanging off your dress. “N-no,” you replied shyly, lifting your eyes to meet hers. “I’m here to see Thomas Shelby.”

Her warm expression melted at the realization, the falling of her lips communicated an unspoken sympathy.

You took in a breath, shaky with anticipation. “Might you direct me to his room?”

“Right, of course.” She shook her head in embarrassment, forcing a smile and guiding you with an extended arm.

As you followed behind her and up the stairs, your eyes flicked over the many paintings on the walls. A blonde woman caught your eye. She was beautiful; framed in a circle of moonlight pouring through a nearby window. Your neck craned, following her eyes, as they did you grew nauseous.

“It’s just down the hall there dear,” The maid directed with a pointed finger, dissolving your trance.

Your eyes scanned over the many doors, stopping at one furthest down the hall. An orange glow spread from under the door, illuminating a path on the embroidered carpet.

“Thank you.” You murmured, keeping your eyes down, and starting down the vacant hall.

She hummed as she departed, disappearing carefully down the stairs.

Hesitant steps carried you down the dark corridor. The shaking of your breath broke the stillness of the air as you grew closer to your fate. A throbbing commenced in your head as you stopped, hovering inches from the door.

Black shadows moved at your feet, indicating activity on the other side. Swallowing thickly, you raised your fist to hover against the wood. With a heavy breath you knocked lightly, 2 times. A stirring of bed sheets came through the door, making you freeze.

“Come in.” a masculine voice called out, increasing your heart rate.

With his instruction, you turned the knob, twisting it’s cool handle and pushing it open with a creak. Candlelight lit up his figure as you entered the room.

Your chest rose as your eyes flicked over his shirtless form, sprawled under white bed sheets with a drink in his outstretched arm. He was otherworldly. His taut chest was covered in ripples of muscle, decorated with a tattoo. His firm forearms twitched slightly as he thumbed the glass in his hand. Your posture stiffened as you closed the door behind you, not removing your eyes from him.

“So you’re Gold’s daughter eh?” He asked, although already knowing the answer. His eyes hungrily scanned your body as he awaited a response.

“Y-yes.” You subconsciously played with the hem of your dress as his piercing blue eyes drank you in.

“What’s your name?” The bed springs squeaked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching to sit his drink on the nightstand.

Your breath hitched at the quiet thud against the wood. “Y/n, sir.”

He was quiet for a moment, suppressing a groan at your pet name. “That’s a lovely name.”

Your eyes wandered to his shifting hips as he neared you, growing taller with every step. The thin white fabric of his boxers scarcely hid the print of his length.

“Y/n.” He repeated to himself, admiring you with parted lips. Your attention moved to him as your name dripped off his tongue. In closeness you could smell his cologne, almost taste it.

I’m curiosity he extended a finger out to brush your cheek, tracing your soft, youthful skin.

The contact made your face burn, unfamiliar with the feeling of a man’s touch.

He pulled away in surprise, studying you with furrowed brows.

His gaze was dominant, powerful, making you feel small and submissive in his presence. His proximity was arousing, close enough to feel his body heat warming yours.

“Are you a virgin?” His voice was low and gravely, making your stomach sink.

You couldn’t help your eyes from watering, both in embarrassment and fear. “Y-yes sir.”

“Fuck.” He groaned, clenching his jaw.

You shifted your weight on each foot, unsure if he was aroused or regretful.

“I’ve never taken a man Mr. Shelby.” With wide, innocent eyes you studied his face. His captivating crystal eyes, his prominent cheek bones, then down to his pink, plump lips, glistening with saliva as he pulled his bottom lip into his teeth.

You mimicked him subconsciously, growing in desire as you studied his masculine features.

His eyes met yours making you gasp softly.

Without warning he closed the gap between you, capturing your mouth in his.

The impact pushed you back slightly, if not for his hand on your back you would have stumbled over.

His breath fanned your cheek as his lips hungrily caressed yours, sucking at your mouth with his.

Your heart pounded with adrenaline, both in arousal and fear.

Your neck craned as you clumsily kissed him back, steadying yourself with your fingers against his shifting jaw.

He groaned at your touch, pulling away from you with a pop. Your eyes fluttered open at his retreat, finding his lust blown pupils, glistening in the amber light.

His hand slid up your back in eagerness, though not rushed, reaching for the top zipper. The feeling of his hands on your body send chills down your skin.

Your dress loosened as he pulled down, nearly exposing your chest if not for your hand catching the falling fabric.

“Wait..” your voice trembled, blinking in fear. His fingers loosened from the zipper at your protest.

“It’s just,” you breathed in, chewing your lip as to not grow upset, “I’m afraid.”

In amusement his mouth curled into a half smile, exposing his teeth, intrigued by your innocence.

Don’t worry love,” he leaned into your ear, muttering lowly with a gravely tone, “I’ve got the best cock in England.”

There wasn’t sarcastic tone in his voice, rather a seriousness, a confidence that rolled off his tongue. The thought made your stomach twist.

“Let me see you.”

You obliged, knowing it was a command and not a suggestion. Slowly, your hand lifted from your chest, allowing the gown the fall down your body.

It hit the floor with a soft thud, exposing your youthful figure. A chill raised on your skin at your bareness, causing you to shiver slightly.

He pulled back from your ear, taking time to admire you. His mouth fell agape as he took you in. Your slender shoulders, narrow hips, and pink nipples, erect in the cool air.

“Christ.”

Instinctually you covered yourself, hiding your breasts and core with trembling hands.

Your couldn’t face him, instead finding your gaze on the floor, watching your feet shift against the velvety carpet.

He shook his head, stepping towards you, bumping into your arms with his abdomen.

Your head tilted at the new angle, finding him looking down at you past his nose. “Don’t hide from me love.”

Your skin warmed as his large hands grasped your wrists, making your heart pound as he easily pulled them from your body.

“I need to fuck that little cunt.” He breathed to himself, exploring his hands up your skin, leaving goosebumps in their place.

Anticipating his cock inside of you made your stomach twist in knots.

His hands stopped at your shoulders, making you stumble backwards as he maneuvered you to the bed. The wood frame met your heels as you met the edge.

“Lay back love,” the force of his hands gently pushed you backwards, lowering you onto the mattress.

You sucked in a breath as the soft comforter swallowed your small frame, leaving you sprawled open. His eyes flicked over you with a predatory gaze, clenching his jaw in arousal as he scanned your body, ready to receive him. Your hair spread underneath you, rippling in soft waves across his sheets.

He worked his boxers down with his thumb, causing your chest to rise as he shuffled the fabric down his thighs.

A patch of dark hair exposed itself at the movement, before finally revealing his half hard cock, bobbing towards his toned abdomen.

Your lips parted in intrigue as he fisted himself a few times, growing hard as his thick fingers stimulated his reddened head.

He let out a withheld breath, dipping the mattress with his weight as he crawled on top of you, trapping you in with his outstretched arms.

Your heart was pounding at a dizzying pace as he closed the space between you. His body heat evaporated his scent, cool with lingering cigarette smoke and whiskey. You breathed him in, foreign to the musk of a man.

“I’ll take good care of you love,” he reassured, pulling your attention to him with a hand in your hair. “don’t worry..” he spoke against your lips, pulling you in for a long kiss.

Your eyes fell closed at the contact. His breath fanned your cheek as he tasted you, groaning lowly as he worked his soft lips against yours.

Imagining his skill made your thighs clench, knowing the amount of women he has been with.

Your squirming under him caught his attention, causing him to break the kiss, hovering inches from your face.

“Are you ready?” He asked, scanning over your face with an eagerness in his turquoise blue eyes.

“I have to be.” You mumbled in an uncertain tone, chewing the inside of your cheek.

He let out a heavy breath as he diverted his eyes from you, reaching for his length. You watched him attentively as he grasped himself, lining up with your open legs.

His other hand pinned down your thighs, making you stuck in a breath as he spread your soft flesh with his firm fingers.

With knit brows he pushed himself into your entrance, making you both gasp.

You fisted the sheets at the unfamiliar pressure, growing in intensity.

“Fuck…” He groaned as he worked into you, stretching out your tight walls with his thick cock.

You whimpered in pain as he buried himself inside of you, not stopping until his thighs touched yours.

He pulled out slightly, making your breath hitch as your insides burned.

The sheets wrestled as he changed positions, resting on his elbows to close the gap between you. His length bumped further into you, making you clench around him.

“Mr. Shelby.. I- I can’t..” you whimpered, writhing under him, looking to ease the feeling of fullness.

“Shh..” he soothed, hovering against your ear “It’ll feel good love, I promise.” His lips met your cheek softly, making you let out a breath.

With a concentration in his brow he pulled out slowly, making you gasp, empty and clenching around nothing.

His thick traps impeded your view, only giving you access to his shifting jaw and taut chest pressing into yours.

He plunged into you again with the bucking of hips, quicker this time, forcing himself inside of you.

You squeaked at the movement, feeling a pressure in your walls as he claimed you.

He began a steady rhythm, chasing pleasure with shaky breaths as he rocked in and out of you at a quick pace.

Your eyes squint shut as he stimulated you, sheathing you with his cock. The hair of his thighs tickled yours as he pounded in and out of you, rocking the bed.

He groaned lowly as you squeezed him, and began to pick up his intensity, harshly colliding with your body.

“Oh fuck..” he groaned with knit brows, fucking you hard. “Good girl, squeeze me like that.”

His praise withdrew a whimper from your throat, encouraging you to slide your hands over his back. Your fingers explored the muscles of his shoulders, shifting with his movements.

The continuous intrusion of his length nudged a spot inside of you, making your toes curl.

“Mr. Shelby..” you whined, holding onto his shifting shoulders for leverage. His body was warm and tough with muscle.

Your sounds encouraged him, and he rutted into you harder, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you, sending bursts of pleasure down your legs.

Your nails dug into his flesh subconsciously, kneading his skin damp with sweat. He groaned, aroused by the pain of your nails in his flesh.

His breathing labored as he fucked you, fanning your face as his forehead fell against yours. You were spilling in arousal, squelching with his every movement.

Rapid breaths escaped your parted lips. Chasing the feeling, you arched your back, bumping into his chest. His sweat covered skin rubbed against yours as he fucked you.

“Are you close?”

Numb with pleasure your head nodded, unable to form words.

“Good girl..” he praised breathlessly, “good girl..” He rocked into you forcefully, moving your body back and forth on the mattress.

“I’m gonna-“ you paused, stunned by a wave of pleasure from his calculated thrusts, “Mr. Shelby..” your whimpered, helpless as your muscles tensed underneath him.

“Come for me sweetheart,” he panted, burying his head in your neck, “come for me.” His deep gravely voice pulled you over the edge.

“Oh fuck!” You yelped, convulsing as waves of pleasure wrecked through your body.

Your eyes squeezed shut in euphoria, mouthing incoherent words as he fucked you through your high, murmuring against your skin.

He moaned deeply as your spasming walls squeezed his length, making his pace waver for a moment.

“Fuck..” you moaned, wrestling the sheets with your squirming.

He didn’t stop, relentlessly fucking your overstimulated entrance with his thick length.

“Mr. Shelby.. it’s too much..” your nails dug into his back in pain.

“I’m almost there love,” he panted, red in the face as he neared his high.

His length continued to pry into you, deeper and harder as his desperation grew.

You squirmed instinctively, pulling yourself away from his cock.

He intercepted your resistance with a firm hand sliding up your throat. His grasp caught the breath in your lungs, making your eyes water.

“Fuck.. stay put love..” he groaned lowly, nudging his nose against your neck as he rutted in and out of you.

Your eyelids drooped at the pressure, lazily following the shifting muscles in his back.

“Ahhh..” he groaned deeply, flexing his core against yours. “Oh fuck…”

He came undone at last, emptying himself into you with a loud groan. “Christ..” he cursed with an open mouth, bucking his hips against yours as his warm seed filled you up.

His grasp tightened slightly as he tensed, unleashing a tear down your cheek and onto his hand.

His pace slowed to shallow rocking, as he came down from his high. Once satisfied, he pulled out with a slick wet noise, making your thighs shake.

His hand released from your throat as he caught his breath, lifting his head from yours to hover above you. His forehand fell against yours in exhaustion, leaving a bead of sweat on your face.

Without saying a word he leaned in, kissing your damp skin, removing the wetness with his lips.

You clenched your jaw, trying best to keep your emotions as bay as you turned your head from him, softly sniffling.

He pulled away from you, rolling to his back with a satisfied sigh as he reached for a cigarette on the nightstand.

While he was occupied you sat up slightly, pulling the covers over your exposed limbs.

As you did so your eyes caught a glimpse of red on the sheets. They wandered to your open thighs, widening at the sight of smeared blood.

You held a hand to you face, blinking in shock and turning to Tommy, “There’s blood!”

Your hand on his forearm turned his attention to you. “It’s okay love,” he took a drag of his cigarette, inhaling a fair amount of smoke, “It’s normal.” His free hand reached for yours, smoothing over your knuckles with his thumb as he let out a puff of smoke through pursed lips.

His touch unleashed a flood of tears from your eyes, which you quickly covered with your hand as they trickled down your face.

You sucked in short breaths, crying against your hand as your body shook.

“Eh, what’s the matter?” He asked softly, reaching for you.

You shook your head, refusing to speak the truth, instead letting it out in the form of tears, forming dark circles on his sheets.

“Talk to me love,” His voice held a tone of sincerity as he kept his eyes to your frame. “Please.”

You took in a shaky breath, swiping your face before letting down your hand. “I’m just a body to you.”

Your gaze was emotionless, frozen on the yellow wallpaper in front of you, dancing over each flower design.

With enough courage you turned your head to face him, pulling your watery eyes to his. “I don’t want to just be a body Thomas.”

The sound of his name on your lips made him freeze. It was vulnerable. Desperate. His cold expression fell, replacing with one of sympathy and warmth in the flicking of his eyes.

“You’re not.” He shook his head, putting his cigarette down and smoothing his other hand over your arm. You leaned into his touch, sucking in a shaky breath through your mouth and rolling onto his chest.

“You’re not just a body to me love.” He spoke against your hair, smoothing over your back with firm strokes.

You nestled against his chest, focusing on the sounds of his shallow breathing against your ear, slowing your tears.

“I’ll make you more than that.”

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

Text

Ghost knew that declining any type of work in this industry wasn't ideal. He can do as he likes because Ghost is a name everyone knows, a porn actor no one forgets.

Unlike you, the newcomer. Still so green behind the ears.

So, with a downturn of your alluring lips, you inform him that the meeting to go over the upcoming threesome with Price would have to wait.

"My manager sent me an email this morning, very last minute, about a video I'm gonna shoot with Gaz."

The fingers that were tugging your hair still. "Oh yeah? Know wha' kinda scene your doin'?"

You softly hum. "He's to be my handyman neighbor. Gotta bat my eyes at him as I ask if he can come fix my kitchen sink."

Kyle's a decent bloke, a looker for sure.

He's an up-and-coming entertainer. The pretty boy next door, the brother's best friend type.

Face as if sculpted from marble, a smile to die for.

Beautiful, really. Not particularly Ghost's type though, he likes a little more meat on his bottoms. Not that what he thinks matters, of course.

"Tha's alrigh', love. We'll postpone it to after then, yeah?"

Ghost quietly sits behind Price with his arms crossed, never taking his sharp eyes off the small screen. Even though Kyle is there too, all he can see is you. Your rosy tongue tantalizingly licks your bottom lip as you give Kyle a once-over.

Smart fingers undoing the button on his trousers, hooking into the waistband, carefully pulling them down until they puddle at his ankles.

The way you gaze up at him through your lashes, with his cock in your pert mouth, taking him in until the tip of your nose grazes his trimmed pubic hair.

How your neck cranes back so beautifully, eyes fluttering closed as Kyle slides his expert tongue through your slick folds. Your soft thighs trembling as you buck into his mouth, the heels of your feet digging into his back. Ghost's ears catch the sound of your breath hitching, while his eyes feast on the delectable sight of your back arching off the kitchen counter as you reach your peak.

His fingers sink into his thick bicep when Kyle doesn't relent after; continues to lap away at your sodden cunt, pressing tiny kisses on your sensitive clit. Ghost's spine straightens instantly when he hears your pained whimper.

It's too much, Kyle needs to back off before he forcibly gets him off of you—

It takes less than a minute for you to reach another peak, squealing as you come.

Your airy laugh dissolves the tension in his shoulders and leans back into his chair.

Good.

He drinks in the euphoric expression on your face when Kyle slowly sinks into your wet heat— your sweet moan forever music to his ears. Ghost watches you jolt back on the counter with every sharp snap of Kyle's slim hips. He hears the breath punched out of you with each thrust. He can see your white, creamy release around the base of Kyle's thick length, strings of slick connecting you two.

Your hands curl around Kyle's forearms, your shaky legs wrapping around his waist.

Ghost's eyes narrow when Kyle leans forward to whisper something into your ear, and you mewl loudly. Ghost clenches his jaw so tightly that he hears a pop.

Kyle's got stamina, Ghost'll give him that. He fucked you through three orgasms until he finally pulled out and spurted thick cum over your mons.

Price calls it a wrap, and the crew begins to take down the lights and such.

Ghost doesn't move from the chair he's in, knowing that you'll come to him, even on unsteady legs.

And walk over you do, slowly but surely. "Hi, Ghost." He pats his thigh invitingly, gesturing you to sit.

"Hey, love. You did so well," he praises. "Looked a dream."

As you glance down in embarrassment, his dark eyes lock onto Kyle's, who stands with a cold water bottle in hand across the room. "Flatterer."

He holds Kyle's gaze a couple more seconds before flicking them to you. "Only tellin' the truth, pet. Alrigh', let's get outta here. Ya hungry?"

He places an arm around your lower back, the other under your knees, and lifts you off his lap.

"Don't even try to pull tha' dietin' bullshit on me either," he chides.

He huffs in amusement when you sputter.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x you #kyle gaz garrick #cod smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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slytherinslut0 · 5 months

Text

Lorenzo Berkshire- Through Rain or Shine

Info: you’d had a tough couple of weeks, and needed to find a way to relieve the numbness in your chest. when your forever friend unsurprisingly joins you, the two of you finally admit your feelings for eachother, after all those years.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: 18+, smut, fingering, kissing, themes of mild depression, praise kink, fluff, so much angst, childhood best friends to lovers trope.

In the quiet solitude of your dorm room, the weight of exhaustion pressed upon you like an invisible force, each day's relentless grind etched into the lines of weariness on your face. The past weeks had been an unyielding onslaught of books and notes, every waking moment dedicated to the pursuit of academic excellence, driven by the burning desire to excel in the impending owls exam.

The recent breakup with your boyfriend had cast a shadow over your world, pushing you deeper into the solace of your studies. Nights blurred into early mornings as you immersed yourself in the expanse of your textbooks, seeking refuge from the echoing emptiness left by the now-fractured relationship. Distractions became your lifeline, a shield against the lingering pain that clung to your chest like an unwelcome weight.

As the culmination of your efforts approached with the passing of your owls exam, a bitter relief settled in upon the conclusion. Yet, despite the temporary reprieve, the ache in your chest persisted, an unyielding rock crushing against your lungs. Caffeine and sleep proved futile against the overwhelming exhaustion that permeated your mind and soul.

And on yet another seemingly mundane night, a symphony of raindrops assaulted your window with an angry rhythm, a stormy punctuation to the warm spring night. Beneath the cocoon of your sheets, you lay motionless, your gaze fixated on the rivulets tracing their path down the glass. Restlessness plagued your every toss and turn, a sleep-deprived mind refusing the solace of slumber.

And as hour after hour passed in the hushed corridors of Gryffindor Tower, you succumbed to a rebellious impulse, heedless of any potential consequences. Clad in only a pair of sleep shorts and a light long-sleeved shirt, you navigated the dimly lit common room, driven by a compulsion to escape, to just fucking break free for once. Troublesome thoughts of repercussions faded in the face of your overwhelming apathy, truly not giving one single fuck about what could, or would happen to you if you were to get caught.

The damp corridor led you to the entrance of the courtyard, where the angry rain battered against the aged stones. A deep breath filled your lungs with the crisp scent of the tempestuous storm, and as you stepped into the downpour, an electric warmth surged through your drenched body. The hard curtain of water enveloped you, washing away the numbness and invigorating your senses, a desperate attempt to feel something--anything--other than the weight of your weary existence.

In another brief stretch of madness, you descended, lowering yourself against the soaked, weathered stones beneath your feet. As your back connected, you felt the tension instantly leave your bones, a shiver dancing along your spine, a stark contrast to the warmth pulsating within. The rain continued its unrestrained assault, a cacophony of droplets drumming against your body and soaking you to the bone.

With each breath, the scent of petrichor mingled with the raw, earthy aroma of the surrounding flora. Your clothes clung to your body, a second skin saturated by the unrelenting downpour. The waterlogged fabric, though chilling, brought a visceral reminder of your exhilarated presence in this moment--a stark departure from the numbness that had gripped you for the last few weeks.

In the embrace of the storm, time lost its linear structure, and the weight of your weary existence momentarily dissolved. The courtyard became a sanctuary, a refuge where the boundary between self and nature blurred, and for a fleeting moment, you existed in a space beyond the confines of your troubles, surrendering to the elemental dance of rain and stone.

Until, suddenly, the ephemeral sanctuary of rain-soaked contemplation shattered abruptly as someone leaned over you, disrupting the elemental dance against your skin. Startled, you opened your eyes, squinting against the mingling rain and the sudden intrusion of the night. There, peering down at you with a mixture of concern and confusion, was Lorenzo Berkshire, your damn-near lifelong bestfriend.

His worried expression cut through the remnants of your momentary escape, and reality crashed back with a jolt. The rhythmic percussion of rain against stone now seemed distant, replaced by the urgency in Lorenzo's eyes.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" His voice pierced through the storm, the concern in his tone palpable. "You're going to catch a bloody cold."

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as annoyance rolled through you. The boundary between self and the outside world reasserted itself, and the refuge you'd found in the solitude had now entirely slipped away, all thanks to the presence of your wonderful, but admittedly infuriating bestfriend.

"Enz, for the love of all things magical..." you grumbled, stubbornly keeping your eyes shut against both rain and scrutiny. "Can't I just have a moment alone? Please, just let me be."

"I can't just leave you out here, especially when you're practically bathing in the bloody storm." Lorenzo's concern lingered in the air as he shook his head, raindrops scattering from the movement. "Come on...let's get you inside before you turn into a drowned owl."

You stubbornly shook your own head, now--your rain-soaked hair clinging to your face as a testament to your unwillingness to yield.

"Enzo, I need this..." you muttered, not ready to abandon the calm you had just found, only moments earlier. "Just-just give me a bit longer, please?"

Ignoring Lorenzo's outstretched hand, you clung to the puddled, uneven stones beneath you, a silent plea for solitude amidst the storm. At your denial, your best friends frown deepened, lines of worry etching across his forehead as he observed your silent resistance. The genuine concern in his eyes betrayed an understanding that surpassed mere words.

He knew you--knew the intricacies of your soul since the days when stumbling was a more common occurrence than walking. He knew this was not like you.

He crouched down beside you, raindrops creating a haphazard pattern on his shoulders. The bond between you two transcended the need for spoken explanations. As he rested a hand on your shoulder, a comforting weight that spoke of shared history, he sighed.

"You've weathered storms before, but this...it's different. You're different." His voice was soft, gentle, barely audible over the sound of rain slamming the stone next to your head. "I'm worried about you."

"I know, Enz," you admitted, almost reluctantly. Opening your eyes, you met his gaze, and in that moment, vulnerability hung in the air. "It's just...everything--the exams, the breakup...I needed a moment to drown it all out, but it seems the storm found me first."

Enzo's hand on your shoulder tightened slightly, a wordless reassurance that spoke volumes. Together, in that shared silence, you both acknowledged the profound truth--you weren't facing the storm alone. He'd simply never allow it. And then, without uttering a single word, Enzo lowered himself to the rain-soaked stones, settling beside you with a quiet understanding. The haphazard patterns of raindrops now painted both of your figures entirely, a shared canvas in the midst of the storm.

In the hushed ambiance of the stormy courtyard, shielded behind bushes and flowers, you shifted your gaze toward Enzo, silently appreciating the allure of his rain-soaked features. Long lashes, adorned with raindrops, sparkled like morning dew, tracing a delicate path along his rosy cheeks. There was a captivating ease in the way he simply basked in the warm rain, his handsome features unburdened as though he was simply reclining in the luxury of his bed.

Enzo had always embodied an enduring quality, a trait that defied life's intricate twists and turns--an attribute you had always found yourself inexplicably envious of. His carefree demeanor wasn't a recklessness that jeopardized education or safety; instead, it mirrored the carelessness of a child navigating their first steps or the unburdened joy of someone soaking up the sun after a harsh winter. He moved through life with a rare freedom, an effortless lightness that resonated deep within you.

For that, you couldn't help but love him--a sentiment woven into the fabric of your bond. No matter the trials life presented or the stretches of silence between you, you unfailingly found yourselves back together. Side by side, navigating this crazy thing you called life.

"I'm here," Enzo's voice shattered the silence, a gentle reassurance that jolted you out of your contemplative trance. It dawned on you that you'd been lost in the steady gaze of his rain-kissed features. "You don't have to talk to me...but I'm here."

Your response came as a slow nod, a silent acknowledgment of his unwavering presence. The weight of his words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, a reassurance that soothed every inch of ache in your bones. It was right then, that you realized, since he'd laid down beside you, the numbness in your chest had completely fucking vanished.

Turning your attention back to the sky, you shut your eyes, embracing the rain that pelted your face. Basking in the comforting silence, you whisper, "Do you ever think about the day we met?"

Enzo's fingers brushed against yours, a tender touch that spoke volumes as he replied, "All the time."

His response stirred a warmth in your chest, a gentle flutter that resonated with the shared nostalgia. "The day at the lake?"

His low chuckle, like a melody in the rain, accompanied his words, "When you stole my toy shovel and then pushed me into the water when I tried getting it back?"

“Oh, please!” An uncontrolled giggle bubbled from your lips as you countered, "that's not at all how it went."

Enzo's eyes sparkled with amusement as he awaited your correction. "Okay, then, enlighten me. How did it really go?"

"Okay, okay, maybe it did go a bit like that..." amidst laughter, you playfully explained, "but you were the one who stole my bucket first, Enz. I had to get you back for it!"

"Fair enough, angel, I might have started it." Enzo's laughter blended with the raindrops as he conceded, "I guess I had it coming.”

Smirking, you retorted, "You've been a pain in my butt since the day we met, Enz…some things never change, do they?"

Enzo's grin widened, and he retorted, "Guilty as charged. But you love me for it, don't you?"

His eyes, filled with a mixture of mischief and affection, reflected the depth of a connection that had weathered the mischievous escapades and grown stronger with each passing storm.

"How couldn't I?" you responded with a fond smile, your gaze locking with his. "With a smirk that irresistibly charming, you make it impossible not to."

"Can't argue with that, angel," he quipped, flashing his teeth playfully. "Charm has always been my secret weapon."

As your laughter faded, a pause settled between you two. Staring at him, a flood of memories cascaded through your mind--years of friendship, shared laughter, and the occasional drunken kiss that had always lingered like a quiet undercurrent. In that moment, you couldn't deny the feelings that had grown, evolving beyond the boundaries of friendship.

The courtyard, still bathed in the rain's embrace, became a silent witness to the realization that the line you'd hesitated to cross might have finally blurred beyond recognition.

"Enz...have you ever...felt, lost?" As you blinked, you glimpsed his lips, your voice a soft murmur as it left your throat. "Like everything you thought was solid, just…crumbled away?"

"Absolutely," he confessed, a soft sigh escaping him as raindrops adorned his lashes like jewels. "It's like the ground beneath you turns into quicksand, and-"

"You're unsure of what to cling to, because it feels like..." you interrupted, your eyes locking onto his.

"....it’s all collapsing alongside you," he finished, completing your thought with a shared understanding. "Absolutely, angel...absolutely."

As you paused, eyes fixed on his features, a rush of emotions surged within you. The realization of your profound affection for this boy, the depth of his unwavering presence, and the shared history you both carried became palpable.

The weeks of self-imposed hibernation in your dorm had isolated you from the world, but here, in the midst of the storm, Enzo stood by your side. His willingness to weather the rain with you, to share the weight of your troubles, became a testament to a friendship that had transcended time and circumstance. The unspoken understanding, the shared glances, all hinted at a connection that had weathered storms of both the heart and the skies.

"Enz," you murmured, the endearment slipping from your lips like a secret shared between kindred spirits. "Thank you, for being here...it means more than you'll ever know."

"You don't have to thank me, angel," he replied, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his rain-kissed lips. "We've always been in this together...through rain or shine--it's what best friends do."

In the quietude of the rain-soaked courtyard, a charged silence hung between you and Enzo. Your heart, like a captive creature, pounded in your chest as you found solace in the shared gaze. His brown eyes, an intimate dance of vulnerability and unspoken sentiments, darted between your eyes and lips.

And then, in an unexpected surge of emotion, the two of you moved as if drawn by an invisible force--his hands found your face, a gentle reassurance, while your own hands mirrored the sentiment, delicately grasping the back of his neck as you pulled him close. Lips collided in a shared moment of exasperation, a kiss that seemed to carry the potential to mend wounds. Enzo's soft, warm lips moved with a careful precision, as though he feared shattering the fragile connection by moving too quickly or being too rough.

A sigh mingled within your shared breaths, and the emotional tide of the kiss swept over you. In the midst of the courtyard's relentless downpour, the intimacy of the moment became a sanctuary. Emotions, sought when you ventured into the rain-soaked space, surged to the surface, rendering you more alive than you had felt in fucking weeks.

Enzo, breaking the kiss with a soft, lingering reluctance, allowed his lips to trail along your jawline. A whisper of breath brushed against your skin as he confessed, his words carrying the weight of years of unspoken desire.

"I've wanted to do that for years," he admitted, the revelation settling in the damp air around you. "...for so many fucking years..."

Your response came as an instinct, your hands finding their way into his hair, pulling him close with a magnetic urgency.

"Me fucking too," you whispered, a fusion of emotions flooding your voice, "why did we wait so long?"

Enzo's gaze, now intensified by the admission and the proximity between you two, held a mixture of regret and longing. He nestled closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke with a sincerity that echoed through the courtyard.

"I don't know, angel," he murmured, the words carrying the weight of missed chances and unspoken confessions. "Maybe we were both waiting for the right storm to finally let it all pour out."

"Mm--pour it out for me, Enz," you whispered, your voice a gentle plea. "Tell me where you've been...tell me where your heart is..."

With a shared understanding, Enzo gently urged you to lay back, guiding you back against the cool, rain-drenched stones. He positioned himself alongside you, his head resting on your chest, the closeness of his body providing a comforting warmth against the coolness of the courtyard. One hand cradled your head while his other traced a delicate path down your stomach, igniting your skin into flames. Inhaling a sharp breath, he confessed,

"Someone once told me that it all comes down to the last person you think of at night." His fingers teasingly traced the line of your shorts as he continued, "That's where your heart is."

As his words lingered in the air, a tender smile played on your lips. Your eyes squeezed shut, encapsulating the vulnerability of the moment. Your hands found solace in his hair, fingers gently petting as you embraced the emotional tide that swept over you.

"Mm-yeah?" you murmured, finding it challenging to stay fully focused on his words as his soft teasing fingers traced along your inner thigh. "And who do you think of?"

Enzo pulled his head from your chest, meeting your eyes with an intensity that cut through the rain-soaked ambiance. His gaze held nothing but pure seriousness as he uttered, "Can I touch you, angel? Please?"

A near mewl escaped your lips, your entire body buzzing with anticipation. "Please do, Enz," you whispered, the plea carrying a mixture of desire and vulnerability. "Gods, please-"

Enzo leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss as he inched his fingers closer and closer to the edge of your shorts. As he slipped his tongue past your teeth, gentle yet urgent, you found yourself practically holding your breath in anticipation, shifting your legs wider slightly to give him better access.

Without wanting to keep you waiting for much longer, his long fingers slipped past the edge of the soaked fabric, connecting directly with your heat as you weren't wearing any panties. You moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it eagerly, his fingers wasting no time at all before beginning to rub tight circles against your clit.

Your grip on his hair tightened, your entire body quivering and squirming against his touch. You lost yourself in sensation, moaning into his mouth as he manipulated you expertly, sucking in air through his nose as he kissed you like he could devour you. The cool raindrops on your skin contrasted with the heat building in your body, and you felt as if you were about to burst with pleasure, explode with emotion.

Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily as he slipped a finger inside you while his thumb continued to rub against your clit. You arched your back against him, feeling every inch of his finger stretching you out as he drove you to the brink of ecstasy, whimpering as quietly as you could as the two of you blended into the darkness, curtains of rain acting as your shield.

"I think of you, angel," His lips found your neck, kissing and biting gently as he continued to work you with his fingers, building your orgasm dangerously fast. "I think of you before I sleep...I wake up and I think about you..."

Your hands shifted, fisting his shirt as you cried out in pleasure, raindrops falling around you in a steady rhythm. You could feel his lips on your neck, leaving wet kisses as he continued, "I think about kissing you good morning...I fall asleep while thinking about kissing you goodnight..."

"Oh...Enz..." the words sent a fresh surge of desire through you, and you arched your back involuntarily, trying to get closer to him. "Oh my Gods..."

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "You know I'm helplessly fucking in love with you, right?"

"Oh-fuck-" you moaned, louder than you'd expected as he increased his pace on your clit, his finger pumping in and out of you with increased intensity, sending your vision spinning. "Enzo-"

"Mhm...pretty girl..." he cooed as you tilted your head back, giving him better access to your neck, and he obliged by nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. "I fell in love with you back before knowing what love even was..." he placed sloppy kisses on your collarbone, nipping softly. "And I've stayed in love with you because no one...fucking no one has ever made me feel the way you do."

Moaning softly, you squirmed beneath him, unable to contain the growing intensity coursing through your body. Tears welled in your eyes, each word that escaped his lips resonating with a tidal wave of emotion, threatening to engulf you under the weight of your own heart. This overwhelming surge of happiness felt surreal, like a dream you never dared to believe could be real.

Suddenly, he slipped another finger inside you, stretching you out wider as his thumb continued twirling over your clit. You cried out in pleasure, the intensity of the sensation making your toes curl, your chest reaching for oxygen as though you’d been starved of it for years.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Enzo murmured against your skin, his lips trailing kisses back up to your jawline. "Does this feel good, angel?"

All you could manage was a nod; your breath was coming in short gasps as the pleasure built and built inside of you. The rain continued to fall down around you, a cooling contrast to the heat in your body, bucking your hips against his hand, becoming increasingly desperate for release.

"Good girl...so, so good..." he purred, kissing his way back up your jawline until he veered back and met your lips, pressing the plush entirety of his mouth to yours. "I continue to fall in love with you every fucking day because there's no one I could ever picture my future with, other than you..."

"Oh Gods, Enzo..." you could feel the tension building in your body, coiling tighter and tighter until you were practically vibrating with need. "I'm so fucking in love with you..."

"Mm," he purred, grazing his lips against yours. "Music to my ears, angel..."

As if sensing how close you were, he slipped a third finger inside you, his movements becoming almost frantic as he continued to rub your clit in tight, harsh circles with his thumb. Your body shook with pleasure, every nerve ending sparking with sensation as Enzo's deep brown pools drilled into yours, watching every slight ministration of your face as you teetered on the edge of pure fucking ecstasy.

"Fuck-Enz..." you moaned, grasping the soaked fabric of his shirt for dear life, squeezing it within your trembling fists. "I'm going to-"

He kissed you again, smiling against your lips. "Cum for me."

That was all you needed to hear; and with a sharp cry, you came hard, spasms of pleasure wracking your body, your vision blurring as pleasure washed over you in waves. Enzo continued to move his fingers inside of you, riding out your orgasm until you collapsed, panting and spent. In the aftermath, as you both caught your breath, the rain persisted, its cool touch soothing your heated skin. A comfortable silence enveloped you, a serene pause in the midst of the rain-soaked courtyard.

After a lingering moment, Enzo gently pulled you up to your feet. Gripping your face with a tenderness that echoed the shared vulnerability, he kissed you again.

"I'll be here for you," he murmured, his words a gentle reassurance. "When you're down, I'll hold you; when you feel like you can't get up, I'll support you. We'll navigate this at your pace, angel. There's no need to rush."

"We've been friends since we were toddlers--how much less rushing can we do?" Giggling against his mouth, you playfully teased, "I just want you, Enz. You've made all the pain in the last few weeks completely irrelevant in a span of an hour...it’s always been you.”

"Then have me, love," he cooed, his fingers entwining with yours. "Whatever you desire, it's yours."

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